Leading Edge
“I suppose not,” the man finally said. “I mean, why?” He looked to the boy, but he was already chewing a fingernail, and did not look back up. His wife glanced over the figure at the window. “Really, it’s just plastic and steel.” “Not one of them real,” said the husband. They looked at each other for a moment. The three laughed at his little rhyme, then continued on their way. It was getting dark. They paused only once, in an eddy of cold wind at the next corner. It took them by surprise, but it was inevitable; it was the year’s end, steadily encroaching. The group tightened their coats and, holding hands, crossed the street to hurry home. ·
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