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“I kinda remember the original us before we hit that landmine, but it’s fuzzy. Like it’s all missing.” “You don’t really remember anything about your parents?” Jacob asked. “No, not really.” “Same, but then why do we have personalities if we don’t have many memories of our parents?” “Maybe we picked up our personalities from other people.” “That could be right, Jules. Doesn’t that mean our slates were cleaned and we got new personalities?” “Probably,” Julia agreed. “All I wanted to do was serve my country then settle down with a big family and tons of animals.” “Now all you want to do is be alone and paint?” “Ya, it’s kinda lonely, but doesn’t feel lonely.” “Do you think it’s lonely because your family tells you its lonely?” Jacob greeted a hen and her two chicks when they hopped onto the porch. “Hey there, Peaches.” “Sometimes I wish I just was a chicken,” Julia said, smiling. “Why? All they do is eat, sleep, shit, and repeat.” “That’s all humans did long ago but then we discovered farming and civilization. Now look where we are now. Sitting on a porch talking about life and chickens.” “Damn wars,” Jacob said. “Damn PTSD,” Julia followed with. They looked at the chickens and, with similar minds, said together, “Damn chickens.”


2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  
2017 Freshwater Literary Journal  

Professional literary journal produced at Asnuntuck Community College