My early morning commute plunged me into thick fog along a stretch of highway known for twists and turns. Traffic around me didn’t slow. When I tapped my brakes, cars began flowing past, honking. I sped back up.
Bent over the steering wheel to see, I scanned the gray for my exit ramp. Ahead, several brake lights lit up red all at once. Clustered together like a multi-eyed monster, all eyes on me.
I yanked my steering wheel left, barely squeezing by a five-car pile-up. The ramp appeared just on the other side.
They were too close together. I mist.
Thanks for reading!
Subscribe to my list of readers who get new stories, sneak peeks, and book reviews delivered to their inboxes.
Featuring “I Hope This Email Does Not Find You!”
The last eight years have been the warmest on record.
Little Blue Marble‘s anthology of speculative climate fiction and poetry from an international slate of authors mourns and hopes in equal measure for the fate of our world and its ecosystems.
May these visions of the future inspire collective action before climate chaos becomes irreversible.
Show Your Support
If you enjoy my writing, please consider leaving a tip. All amounts welcome!