A Memory Tornado in Idaho
The loss of childhood is painful
A tornado plows through the fields of corn. The man inside the abandoned house laughs to himself as the wind-tube barrels toward his childhood home.
He picks up his phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Trevor, whatcha doing?” says the woman’s cheery voice.
“Hey, Mom. I’m back at the house in Idaho,” he says, eyes watching what looks to be an entire tree flying through the air.
“Idaho!?” she says, playful. “What are you doing back there?”
“I was driving to the coast and I just decided to stop by,” he says. No one has lived in the home on the hill since Trevor’s family left. The rooms are decayed, but untouched. “It’s so weird being back here.” He runs his fingers along his father’s desk-lamp and inspects the black dust.
“I can’t believe they didn’t just tear it down,” she says.
Trevor watches one of the giant AI-run harvesters march along, undisturbed by the tornado. The logo “Monsanto” is visible. He can hear stirring on the other end of the phone. “Are you cooking?”
“Yeah!” she says. “Uncle Wayne and them are coming over here later. Wish you could be here!”
“Me too…”
