The House of Tomorrow
The House of Tomorrow
“Transmissions THAT NIGHT, I RODE HOME WITH A FENDER BASS guitar fastened to my back with a single leather strap. I had no carrying case so the body of the guitar banged against my back as I rode up the hill to the dome. The strings made sounds like the whales on Nana’s tape each time my tire hit a bump. But when I arrived at the bicycle storage shed, the bass was still in one piece. I quickly hid it under a mesh tarp and exchanged it for two cans of Derbyshire Green paint. I had asked the ill-t...empered man at the paint store for something “verdant and cheap,” and this is what he had given me. The brand was not on sale, but it was well within Nana’s budget. My business sense, I hoped, would still be celebrated.
It was disquieting to think about all the lies I had told Nana in the past few days. It was new territory, and like anything unexplored, it conjured both fear and excitement. I tried not to let myself dwell on it as I walked through the moon blue woods. The dome was dark this time, and I couldn’t stop myself from speculating about the goings-on at the Whitcombs’, where I was sure the lights were still on.MoreLess
It was disquieting to think about all the lies I had told Nana in the past few days. It was new territory, and like anything unexplored, it conjured both fear and excitement. I tried not to let myself dwell on it as I walked through the moon blue woods. The dome was dark this time, and I couldn’t stop myself from speculating about the goings-on at the Whitcombs’, where I was sure the lights were still on.MoreLess
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