Ryan Everett Felton
I shift the car from park to drive the requisite number of times. I count along in my head, as the ritual demands.
Then I lick my lips seven times and back out of the driveway. It is 7:00 in the morning when I leave for another day at the office, and I will time my arrival so that the digits on the other side of the o’clock colon can be divided by the magic number. I do this every day.
I do this to protect the world from certain catastrophe, and you’re welcome. Continue reading “A Routine”