Stories related to political

Roadkill on the curb. Windbreaker, luggage, a dead TV. A toddler stares, confused. No one should have his heart broken before breakfast.

“Wait,” said the evil time-traveling robot, scanning the park the rebel’s mother fled through, “this is way better than what we put here.”

He didn’t crave the money or the fix. He just wanted to look someone in the eyes; for someone to gaze back. His sign said LOST, and he was.

Shrapnel sang through the air for a whole week. After the planes were gone, we found a sealed letter blowing in the streets. We mailed it.

He mailed his balance-due check directly to Afghanistan, writing “Good luck” and drawing a peace symbol on the back of the envelope.

Red is the new green, radioactive the new pure, Monsanto the new organic. And from the ocean depths rises new life, smarter now, and pissed.