Ammunition Sky EVA PROVONOST
Eddie had decided not to acknowledge the end of the world. If the bombs were coming, he might as well ignore them. People would die whether they screamed or sunbathed, he supposed, so fear would do nothing. He looked out the window of his house. His lawn was regulation green, corners neatly edged, lawn swept. The sky was blue and orderly, a reminder that the bombs had not come yet. He walked onto the crisp patio with something like pride sitting in his chest. All was as it should be. A neighbor’s cat screeched, and Eddie’s teeth clenched for the fifth time that day. Every sound these days sounded like an explosion. Still, he was not the type to panic. He folded his newspaper in half and walked inside calmly, without looking back at the sky. His heart scratched against his ribs as he entered the kitchen, where his wife was working. Her name was Louise, and they had been married for nine years, and in love for seven. Louise was the type of woman who believed in only three things: God, her family, and whoever was talking on the television. She had sixteen dresses, all of them identical but with theoretically different flower-based patterns, and two bras. One of them was the normal one, the one she wore normally, and the other was a bullet bra, which she bought because Marilyn Monroe wore one. She was quite a fan of Marilyn Monroe, who was the height of sexiness, and even though Louise still wasn’t sure what made a woman sexy, she knew Marilyn Monroe was. There was a creased photograph of Marilyn Monroe in Louise’s change purse, buried among doctor’s notes and medical bills, which
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