by Abbie Lahmers
Issue No. 200 ~ January, 2014
Behind the gas station, a fence spread out maybe an acre into the distance, and about a dozen goats had their noses buried in the grass. Dale hiked his pants up and jumped up onto the fence but couldn't keep his balance, so he settled on leaning. He pulled a stick of beef jerky out of his shirt and smelled it like it was an expensive cigar, thought about life after death for a minute, about how he was making his living in the world’s most uncrackable mystery.