The summer the insects took over The Sardine Tin was hot and slow and quiet. The city itself was loud: boomboxes blasted the summer’s hits. Cars backfired and gunshots crack-cracked. Firecrackers whistled into the late-evening sky, and sirens blared — there were more sirens than Maura remembered any summer prior; the city was experiencing a record heatwave, and the swelter made everyone surly, drove them to crime and violence.
-read more @ New Pop Lit (also appears in Reckless Chants #20)