I want to climb behind his eyes. To crawl on my belly over enemy lines and see the shelling for myself.
Noetic civil war—red rain of spitfire sky; ground assaults below.
What chance does love have in his wartime mind?
Wait.
It’s…
a flag unfurling, bleached, bloody.
He surrenders.
Gabe has been writing and editing for 30 years, from her home base in Sydney, Australia. She doesn’t plan on being replaced by AI any time soon.
