The Fall

The Fall By J.M. Snyder The world was colorless in the rain, the buildings gray and soggy like discarded boxes leaning against each other precariously. The streets were empty, the water flooding down their black lengths awash with oily rainbows. A truck idled beside a curb, the windows fogged over. The rain was cold, numbing, and the dry cab of the truck promised heat. With one arm around his friend’s shoulders, Gabe crouched as they ran through the rain, heading for the truck. Standing against the wet metal, he rapped on the passenger side window, the sound of his knuckles on glass dull to his ears. It had been so long since he’d been down here, among mortals. Even the sounds hurt. He heard the pop of the lock and he opened the door, pushing Luce inside. He didn’t look at the blood on