The pretty newscaster lady was talking about the long-term environmental impact of the spill, how the crude sludge decays into fantasy and delusion.  She's smiling.  Easy for her to talk; she's had her ration and more, I'd wager.
Kind of ironic: selling it off is the best way to look to the future, for most of us.
Used to be I held my job as a sacred trust.  But now I've got a truck of liquid hope parked outside and all I can think of is dumping it all into the local aquifer.  Maybe we'd be better off without it...
DP FICTION #129A: “When Eve Chose Us” by Tia Tashiro
22 hours ago


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