It’s Later than You Think by Michelle Brooks There is the reflection of a rainbow in the Rent to Own window, and puddles have formed in the holes dotting the parking lot, the water streaked with rainbows made of gasoline, and I try to remember what I need for tomorrow’s work party as I roam the Dollar General. I grab a bag of pretzels and think, This is my dinner and all the while, other lives play out around me. A teenager tells her friend, I can’t believe Halloween is tomorrow, and I don’t know what I’m going to be. I wasn’t anything last year . A man asks his wife , Do you think the rain has stopped? She doesn’t look at him, only says, I sure fucking hope so. It’s depressing . After loading my basket with paper plates adorned with skulls and witches, I get in line, looking down while the young couple in front of me buys a pregnancy test and a bag of Cheetos, the woman counting out change from a tiny purse embossed with star
Flying Island is the Online Literary Journal of the Indiana Writers Center, accepting submissions from Midwest residents and those with significant ties to the Midwest.