Fallout (Crank 3)

Which means I’d better

get a move on. Traffic

will be a bitch. A glance

out the window confirms

it’s a crystal-edged October

day. Perfect football weather.

I shave. Shower. No time

for breakfast, a quick brush

to excise morning mouth.

Jeans. Long-sleeved blue tee

sporting the X logo. It’s a little

wrinkled, but the black leather

bomber will camouflage that.

Socks. Socks? My sock drawer

is empty. Oh, well. Yesterday’s

shouldn’t be too bad. Mom’s always

griping about my dirty laundry.

All you have to do is get it from

your room to the la

undry room.

Twenty-five steps total. How hard

could that be? The word isn’t “hard.”

It’s “organized.” Not my best thing.

Yesterday’s socks it is. New pair

of Nikes, barely scuffed at all.

Out the door in twenty minutes.

If I’m lucky, I won’t be late.

IT’S A HALF-HOUR DRIVE

To the station. Another forty

minutes to load the remote