Acupuncture After The Apocalypse

The Car Got About

I’d know that old Wagoneer anywhere. The car got about eight miles to a gallon of gas, and was the perfect ride for Levi. It looked like the sort a southern gentleman farmer would drive, and that was what Levi would have been if he hadn’t moved north from Kentucky. He went to college at UK, then to Yale for law school, and then took his job at the EPA here in Chicago. Even though he was an environmentalist and gay, and even though for many years he’d been sipping on the cynicism that northern cities lace into the drinking water, the gentleman farmer remained inside of him. When Levi was dressed casually and you weren’t distracted by snappy urban lawyer clothes, if you looked at him with his wispy hair and amiable smile and sad eyes, you could see the thoroughbreds grazing on spring grass and the tobacco leaves warming in the sun.

I’ve been scoping out the campaign headquarters, and the Wagoneer Levi always drove is parked out back. I’m not wrong about this.

Jill Riddell is a writer in Chicago. She teaches at the School of the Art Institute and has a weakness for nature, magic, and pennies abandoned in sidewalk cracks.