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Weekly Contest #349
Today is April 31. That was what the sign said when I found it, hanging crooked from the rusted ceiling of a gas station, its letters half-burned away like the world couldn’t even be bothered to keep time straight any more. I liked it. A date that didn’t exist. A day that shouldn’t have been there. It felt right for what I had become. I used to count days. Before the rot got into my blood. Before my heartbeat slowed and thickened, like it had to push through mud just to keep me standing. Now I measured things differently. Hunger cycles. suns...
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