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Micro-Fiction, Wilson NJ
“Mark’s Neighbors”
05.15.08 | Permalink | Comment?

They hadn’t really shaken off the courtroom yet as they drove down one of New Jersey’s last remaining ‘back-roads’.
There’s a strange lasting feeling of uneasiness you get when you spend the day going through the motions of a process that isn’t your own. Rebecca’s high heels lay under the passenger seat and her husband’s tie was undone and sitting sloppily on his neck. She looked out the widow as he drove, seeing what she could of the cornfields in the thick darkness. He had forced her to move out here and for someone who grew up in New York, it’s silence that makes your hair stand up.