tremors

The building shook and he thought it was happening, again. That psychotic event, triggered by who knew what, that made everything tremble. Leftover from his time in Vietnam, in one of those tiger cages that the quote-unquote experts said didn’t really exist. But he knew the truth. He’d been in one. For months. Three. He’d counted the days. His wife, Marge, ran into the room to make sure he was ok. She was out of breath. “It’s ok,” she said. “It’s an earthquake, I heard it on the news, just now.” She put her arms around him, Marge, such a different woman than the one he’d married just before shipping off in March of 1966. Marge, who’d dedicated her life to helping him have one. “I love you,” he said, to her. “I know,” she answered. Everything was ok, now. For now. He’d been the star quarterback at Edson High, back in the day. She’d been a cheerleader. They’d been voted Most Likely to Marry. They had a dog named Quisno.