Fiction
This World is
Hard on Knightsby Nick Kolakowski
The day his new life ended, Miller ran some errands in town, heading back up the mountain to his cabin at dusk. Fighting his truck’s stiff wheel on those switchbacks always left his shirt moist with sweat, but he had a sentimental attachment to the ancient machine. He had bought it secondhand as a teenager, shortly before the plunge into the moral quagmire of his Army years.
The setting sun made it hard to see the narrow turnoff between the femur-white aspens that led to his home. Not that Miller minded: the fewer visitors he had these days, the better. Fifty yards down his driveway, the trees widened into a small clearing, the lightless house at its center. The truck squealed to a stop twenty feet from the front door, and Miller
