EXCERPT A buzzing in my head brought me awake. I blinked at the glass a few inches over my face. Ceiling tiles, a florescent light fixture beyond the transparent barrier. I placed both palms on the canopy, feeling a little like I was in a coffin. Pushing on it, I heard another sound like airbrakes again, and the canopy folded back, as if I was emerging from the cockpit of an F16. I sat up. At the foot of the tube, sat Ethan Pritchard. He looked just like the photo on the back of his book. Scruffy salt … Continue reading →