Listen to a reading of “Ambush” by Spencer Hayes.
My ears bleed to the rhythm of synthesized pop. I sip my beer. Head sticks to the sides of the glass like age rings on a tree. I see them—mom, dad, kid—no more than ten, fifteen feet away, eating, laughing, making the most of it. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed mom chomps salad. She’s got on this violet dress with red flats and a white cropped jacket. She looks good, too good, in fact, for her corn-fed husband with his Marine Corp high-and-tight. Their kid is like the millions born every day, but
