The Joys of Late Stage Capitalism_The City is Home, but Escape is the Dream_Recompense Unlimited_Wyc
Catalog Guide:
The Joys of Late Stage Capitalism
He threw a larger piece of brick, shattering another pane of glass. Who would complain? The warehouse had already been emptied out. A company car drove by, slowly, its headlights washing over him. Gordy momentarily felt sheepish, squinting his eyes, hiding the alcohol he’d been drinking behind his back. He reminded himself he was a 55-year-old man, not a 15-year-old. The same anger was still there.Gordy ran a hand over his bald pate. Self-consciously, he pulled his Indiana Pacers jersey down over his middle-aged paunch. “What is going on,” a security guard asked, coming to a stop, partially ro...
The City is Home, but Escape is the Dream
The townhomes and ground of her big little world rumbled as she turned the corner towards the subway station. For a moment her heart sank in both the immensity of the artificial earthquake, as well as the anxious terror of possibly missing the train. She attempted to peer around the corner of the overhead railway, but could not tell from which direction the transport was coming or going. In her scrubs with a grandchild by each side, they ensued a charge like soldiers entering battle, hopping over small, ancient sidewalk craters which somehow always appeared without warning. Where the eroded h...
Recompense Unlimited
Through the dirty gas station window Cwww.onedoor.ccade Wilcott watched the light turn red, then green, then red again while not a single vehicle passed through the intersection. The faded redlight swung in the breeze. Cade wondered how many more times the old fixture would have to swing to and fro before it fell to the ground, shattering the bulbs, sparks flying. What would uphold law and order in Redham if not the only traffic light for 30 miles?The bell chimed as the door swung open. Without moving his head, Cade pushed his cap up to get a look at whoever had walked in. But the man—dressed in all beige, ...
Wychmere
Deborah Rodgers had been living in Wychmere, Maine for about two or three months now. She had purposefully been seeking out a remote and quiet community when she stumbled across the tiny hamlet of Wychmere. “Where did you find this place?” Sarah Hartman, Deb’s realtor asked when they exited their cars at the property.“One of those online realty websites, I don’t really remember which now that you ask. It’s absolutely perfect though isn’t it?!” Deb was bouncing on her heels with excitement.Sarah was rather surprised when Deb came to her with the listing for this tiny cottage in this microscopic...