Memory Lane
Washington, D. C., March 2030
Langley drove home slowly, but resisted all temptation to stop and talk to teenagers, no matter how much they seemed to look like Eric. This happened every day—he'd see a group of kids and think one of them was his.
But Eric was dead, so logic told him they couldn't be Eric. Still, it was difficult to live with. Difficult to be reminded every day of what he had lost. What could have been.
Langley reached over, turned the radio up louder, and did his best to focus on the road ahead of him. He looked at the cars, covered in brown slushy snow mixed with the salt that had been spread on the streets to make driving safer, and he noticed how unsightly the street gutters were, filled with litter that was too big to fit down the sewers.
This negativit
