I have a story in the second issue of this wee, start-up literary magazine called Zeugma , out of Newfoundland. A bit about the launch is here . Pinch Me It is morning and they are moving. Still moving. He opens his eyes to windshield-flattened light, to Saskatchewan in spring, on the horizon all around is a colossus of sky, pressing down, seconds awake and he already feels it, hates it, this Biblical immensity without a puff of cloud, where trees stand strangled, twisted into the ground and telephone poles lean guilty like crosses in the ditches. His wife, Rachel, is driving. It makes him sore to think that thought, to see the words in his head. Sore and suddenly sharpened. “Do you know where you’re going?” he asks, looking out on the highway, to its diminishing point of oblivion. On the seat between them is a hand-drawn map, a crooked red star marked Auntie Della’s. “And good morning to you,” she sings back. Most unconvincingly. Trying to bluff him out, he knows her in an instant. St