Brooks Sterritt
The smell began to weigh on Todd. The car’s air conditioning was broken, its windows down, and the wind only stirred the hot, rotten-tasting air that seemed to follow him and his wife across the country.
…..“We must be passing a hog farm or something,” he said, and looked at Carol.
…..She appeared to nod, but was wearing sunglasses and Todd didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. It felt like he had been driving for days.
…..“Carol?”
…..“What.”
…..“Are you feeling okay?”
…..“I think you know I’m not okay,” she said.
…..“What is it, dear? What is it?”
…..Fields of rotting cabbage bordered the road on either side. No other vehicles were in sight. The car drifted into the opposite lane and back. Todd gripped the wheel and leaned forward, tried to concentrate on driving. He couldn’t stop casting sideways glances at Carol in an attempt to catch her looking at him. He turned on the radio and tried to calm down. He fought the urge to lift her sunglasses. He needed to do two things: put Carol in the ground, and then decide how soon he himself would follow.
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Brooks Sterritt is the fiction editor of Redivider and a reader for Ploughshares. Previous fiction of his has appeared in Barrelhouse, Wigleaf, Gigantic, and elsewhere. Find him online at Magic Monads.
