by Alder Yarrow
This afternoon I poured myself the last of a bottle that had been opened earlier in the week, and wandered to the back yard to relax a little. I must not have slept well the night before, because after a few sips and a few moments in the sun, my eyes became heavy, and their lids fell.
I awoke with a start, and found myself alone on a level plain of grey concrete stretching far and away into the distance. Alarmed, I gulped what was left of my tepid wine, presumably warmed by the sun which now seemed to recede high beyond a veil of haze.
I rubbed my eyes. I stood in a massive empty parking lot, hemmed in on all its distant sides by featureless buildings leaning at crazy angles away from the grainy expanse.
When I finally managed to turn away from this terrifying vista, I found myself nearly in the shadow of the largest superstore I could ever imagine, deserted as the parking lot I stood in, but emblazoned with four-story letters proclaiming “WINE-MART. Always Low Prices. Always.” I could make out through the glare of the windows that the store was stocked to the brim. My footsteps echoed dry and flat against the façade as I approached the doors. (more…)