Abi Hennig

Alone, I posed no threat. Then I birthed a NewGen, and the countdown began. T-MINUS ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN MINUTES On my sixth attempt, the communicator crackles. I stare at the shimmering screen, watch numbers scroll interminably until finally they shiver to a still. Four digits sparkle against the basalt-black background: SOS received. Above the […]

Sometimes, he stares at the picture ticky-tacked to the overhead cupboard door for a solid ten minutes.   Lone wolf he calls it.   Like me, he says.   He rubs at a spot on the counter, invisible to the naked eye.   Like me, she thinks.   She visits most days, hovers at the