
he/him. writer wherever words are read, cast on @ftlcast, music at https://xitter.gq/t.co/z3aIZe4zPe
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ALT An excerpt from What Washes Up In Arizona. It reads: LORELEI DIDN’T ASK too many questions when I climbed back on the Treasure. She stayed quiet for a while as the sun kept on its climbing. For a minute, I really did forget she was there. Too focused on heading north toward Marble Canyon. Hoped to make it before noon. Otherwise, the shimmer’d get too close to see the shore. Couldn’t sail like that. Around eleven, Lorelei spoke up again. Asked if I’d heard those rumors. That things fell from the sky sometimes, full of toxic chemicals and cosmic radiation. That they leaked where they lay. Made the land around them fallow. I told her sure. I’d even come across a few. Those low-Earthorbit habitats couldn’t fling their runoff into space. Couldn’t slip our gravity. So, they dumped it onto us. She asked me if it bothered me. If I was scared of getting sick. I thought of Matt. Staring out into the haze. Stepping off the bow. I told her we were sick already.














