The American Nightmare

 

I’ll be dead in two hours. Jeremiah Groundstay, wiped from existence. Born on a ranch, I was. Hit thirteen before Mom died. Dad beat me into seventeen. Joined the air forces to escape him. He hated planes, so I tested jets, ‘til now. Space is awesome: giant; black; silent. Earth rules don’t apply here. Think I’ll pull the plug early.

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