of Montreal - "Wintered Debts"

Edmund skipped up the steps and slipped his mitten round the ornate brass door handle. The smell of expensive coffee, specially vented towards his senses, designed to make him desire a fair trade roast, instead just made him feel like taking a shit. He smiled in advance, in case she saw him first.

Evelyn, the daughter from his first marriage, now 17. Her long, straight hair, an aberration from girls her age, gave her a confidence and a classical air that made him proud. But today, she was crying in a Starbucks.

"He's just such a fucking asshole!" She swore around him as a kind of challenge, a sort of maturity game, would he react to form or content? "Evelyn," he said gravely, an attempt to react to both at once. "What are you going to do now?" Edmund felt his keys in his pocket, cold from the car. "I wanna die," said Evelyn, her misty eyes the same colour as the stripes in her sweater. "You talk like that, you're gonna get committed," and he reached across the table and sipped her coffee. Two could play at the maturity game. It seemed to genuinely scare her, as she talked only about how she would finish senior year and go traveling from then on.

"You need a ride somewhere?"

RED In the car, they rode, unspeaking, to whale sounds. Edmund had downloaded it as a relaxation technique, and he was still trying to find a single relaxing quality about it. PROTECTED LEFT He just imagined their titanic bodies, far too large to fit in his car or his bedroom, YELLOW and their primal clicking and moaning. It was anything but relaxing. BLACK

Black? crash.

A pair of cars in front of them. T-bone. Edmund and Evelyn unharmed.

If the victims had been asked to empty their heads like they would their wallets, just what they had on them: "I was just at swimming. Beat my time." "My kids believe in magic." "Are these all coupons?" "Thirty comes fast." "A dog is only as good as its terrible owner." "I can't wait to see that."

[Pre-Order]

(carving by Guy Laramee)