30 Oct '16, 2pm
The Siren & The Worm
The houses on our street were built all at once after the war. My parents were children in them when they were new, but by the time I grew up the houses were already broken and weedy, and the siding engineered by the war scientists had been warped by the sun. It was the first week of warmth after the winter. It was the year I was fifteen, my first year of service. I was still unused to work and it showed in my dirty uniform, my dirty hair, and the sores around my mouth. My grandmother was always telling me to try to remember to eat an orange once in a while, but it was hard to remember when there was little in the pantry to remind me. Early in the morning, I made for the freeway and the shop once I crossed it. Trudging down our row of single family dwellings, most of them like mine with a grandmother in the basement, I felt immense sympathy for creatures displaced from the...