I’m playing out in my head a half-dozen conversations that haven’t happened yet. I fear for my sanity, mostly because there is something cruel brewing, when my imagination marinates in the darkness.

The summer sky has not been tainted by the years. I glance out the second-story window at a familiar view – an affluent neighbourhood untouched by ghosts of premonition that have worn down my childish innocence.

Streaks of blue, yellow, and pink blur together faster until I find myself standing by the interstate, suspended in an alternate state.

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