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On A Midnight Black Chessie

ON A MIDNIGHT BLACK CHESSIE

Now

Bradley again turns onto the strange road bathed in the moon’s phosphorescent glow. He understands this place now. Understands what it is, where it came from, and how it came to be.

Ned sits on the passenger side, still drunk, forehead pressing the window as he gazes at the glowing scenery. “Wow. Am I awake or dreamin?”

“Neither,” Bradley whispers. “Or maybe both.”

Toward Ned he feels a resolved sadness. Bradley no longer hates him so much but rather pities him, for he’s caught up in something much larger than himself, much larger than Bradley or anything else, and is completely helpless in the face of it.

As Bradley is.

And as they drive down this softly glowing road, Ned continues to stare. “Geez. Don’ recognize this at all. You lost?”

“No,” Bradley says as he slowly pulls up to the glowing church at the road’s end. “Not at all.

“I’m home.”

Three Days Ago

Friday afternoon

Bradley Sanders had just pulled shut his office door at Webb County C
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