Silent Stories at a buck, fifty decibels DOLBY 5.1 THX am/fm radio ISSUE 03 of 03

Careening down Interstate 80 West, my father, Paul T. Black knew he was being followed.

This was in the decade known as the Ninteen (sic) eightees, and back then, when you lived in the Bay, commuting to The City you essentially drove to work by driving, one car length space at a time, his carphone in the orange Dodge Aries overheating.

“A little luck.”

Kratos, chewing Beeman’s, had arrived.

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