Meredith stooped to collect the newspaper from the floor, and tried to scan the headlines as she carried it back towards the kitchen. Tigger ran laps around her ankles, nearly tripping her until she relented, opened the fridge, and shovelled food into his dish.
As she rinsed the spoon she listened to the din rising from the street, fever pitched before the sun had even broken the bonds of the distant horizon. Somewhere below a thousand engines gunned, and horns barked back and forth as though idle threats could get the gridlock moving. She flicked the radio on and slipped bread into the toaster, then with a glass of water in hand, sat down to read the paper.
Death. Suicide bombs. Famine and disease. Scandal. It all became a blur. Best left unread, and far less painful to simply ignore.
This is the tape I was telling you about — last Thursday night, filmed by one of the cameras down Willis Street, the one just opposite the gas station. I’ve rewound it to just before these guys appeared, so if we watch it from here? Now it’s a little after one in the morning, and [...]