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I mentioned we went on a trip.

One of the places we went was the Hill of Crosses. It’s in Šiauliai, in Lithuania. Continue reading →

He said, after he’d sat us down next to him, that his name was Kenny. His daughter, little, blond, five, was named Emily. This was one of those unreal experiences, when the ground seems to slip out from under you, so you can’t do anything but smile and nod because suddenly all the rules have changed and you can’t figure out how the game works now.
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Back in January, before we left for our trip (I went on a trip, did I tell you that?), my housemate and I were on a walk. It was the post-tabletop game night walk, lots of gesticulating and laughter and the tension steaming off of us like, well, steam.
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I stepped outside. The sun was shining through the fog, making it glow. When I had looked out the window earlier in the morning it had been truly foggy. Our house seemed to be stranded in a sea. But now it was almost clear, and only the houses far ahead were obscured.
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Everything smells like blood.
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I’m walking, I don’t know where. Near E, maybe. I remember seeing a street sign, later. It’s evening, but summer, so though seven is gone, and eight is coming with a rapidity that one only sees on the last day of the weekend, the sun is still up, and bright. Glaring even, down our numbered streets.
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