1970

No sleep.  Just cold.  The only thing that dawn brings to the table is light.

My right leg is twisted under me.  The left is between some rocks the size of refrigerators.  Both legs hurt but I won’t know if they’re broken until I stand up.  I can’t imagine that ever happening.

Yet I’m suddenly upright, staring into a very angry face.  Crew-cut.  Vietnam tan.  I’m in his close-up.  “You’re Jay James.  I’ve been looking for you.  You killed my sister. ”

The sun crests over the cliff, the one I fell from last night, just as he knocks me to the ground again.

Sleep please.

The Story So Far