Jeff Hunt

Let me tell you where you are in history. At the time our story begins, in this era, no one any longer uses the phrase, “I love you.” Only a writer of my low caliber and status would even know this antiquated saying. Let me tell you further then exactly where our story begins, and what the Scout said to me as it began, awakening me to the fact I was in a story, that something was happening to me. I will warn you though it was a not a good way to wake up. For example, if you awoke this morning in a comfortable bed, with the sun coming through the curtains, then I am happy for you. If you then slipped on clean clothes and padded down the hall for a snack, then I also envy you, but am still happy for you, as ever. Because along with no one saying I love you, padding down the hall for snacks is no longer the case as well, along with an alarming shortage of sunlight through the curtains and warm beds. There are also no more bedtimes. And that is because there are no more parents. That is where we are in history as our story begins. A story that began precisely at the moment the Scout, who was about as young as myself, shook my shoulder and said, “We’ve got to dig a hole or we’re going to die.”