BackAlleyScrapper

 Maggie Hart fastened the last button on her coat and stepped out into the cold.  The plane yard was nearly empty now.  Men were seated in their cockpits, taking down pictures of wives and girlfriends and other lovers from their dashboards, collecting any personals still in their fighters.  The war was over.  Maggie marched with her head down to her plane farthest from the barracks.  One of the young men in his cockpit leaned out as she passed. "Saying goodbye to ol' Lucille, huh Moxie?" She looked in his direction, but kept walking.  Lucille, Maggie's plane, was the only other girl in the entire Air Force. She reached Lucille and pulled

I sat there at the edge of America, looking out across the ocean.  The cliffside dropped off before me, so it seemed as if just one more step would send me careening into the waves.  The waves comforted the unseen beach below with their soft, white gloved hands.  As I listened to the slow turning of the water, I tucked my legs into my chest and rested my chin on them.  I was so tired.  My head was weighted with a weariness that no sleep could abate—years of pressure kept it firmly against my knees.  The pressure fell upon me like waves themselves, squeezing tears from my eyes.  It slid from my shoulders and sunk into the ground.  Slowly,