It was only 8:05 in the morning and they were already arguing.
“No, it should be a rectangle.”
“But the edges are so sharp! Can’t we not have corners?” 61 more words
The roar pulled them from their homes. Wrapped in bathrobes, or comforters. Half-drunk coffees held loose, creases criss-crossing their just removed from pillow faces.
“Awful bright for October,” someone said, their voice, a shiver, moved through the crowd like roofer up a ladder’s rungs. 64 more words