Michael K. Gause

M i c h a e l   K .  G a u s e 

Upstream

Faces melting forward toward their conclusion on the horizon. Timelines barreling toward the void. You remember stopping the car in the middle of the road. A perfect limbo, then sliding backwards like the big bang in reverse or a river running back upstream. No one tells you you can. No more running. A second chance. The wellspring of possibilities everyone else will eventually toss aside.

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