Storygram #29
He headed north, with his six year old daughter asleep in the backseat. She was tough, and he knew she would be fine. He wasn’t as sure about himself.
Storygram #28
The fires are here. The smoke is billowing ahead of them and beginning to flow around me. It threatens to seize my lungs, choking me into submission for the flames’ easy consumption.
Storygram #27
No one blamed him. But he blamed himself. He erected a fence between the children and his work, to keep them safer.
Storygram #26
Path 86 was eerily quiet as usual. He just wanted to check the pipe for a blockage at the end and get back to the base as quickly as possible.
Storygram #25
The property taxes had steadily risen each year. Now, we were the last farm in the entire county, and our land had been sealed on every side by concrete.