"The Flicker" by H.E. Edgmon, Chapters 15–21

Whether it was a trailer where the pipes clogged up for the hundredth time, or a stick house where the water heater ain’t always remember its job, or an apartment over some business where the landlord started threatening them that he’s gon’ put them out if they didn’t stop running up his water bill … Well, sometimes it was just easier to go rinse off in the creek, is all.

He thinks she’s just some dumb hillbilly who grew up under a rock, and he’s all sophisticated and brilliant and that’s why he gets to be transgender.

Problem is, when you spell it out for me like I got rocks in my head, you’re the one who makes yourself look like a bumpkin, pumpkin.”

Rose shoots her a look, like she thinks there’s some insult coming, like it’s a setup for a criticism.

Rose picks up the swath of fabric Millie laid out — old clothes she repurposed a while back — and looks at it sadly.

Even the chestnut and persimmon trees are dead and withered up, nothing but phantom reminders of who they used to be.

But it’s a real loud kinda not saying anything, and Millie pretends she can’t hear the unspoken words in the quiet.

Ben makes a pallet on the floor in front of the fire, and Corncob joins him.

Others warn of some benevolent queen, and if you don’t follow her rules, she kicks you out and lets you starve.

Anything about animals or plants, any spotting of unusual critters in town, or anything about who won biggest gourd at the county fair, it’s all clipped and in the box.

Others are about politics — the great divide between parties, civil unrest breaking out across the country.

Or, okay, it ain’t like she was psychic.

“I know. I know. And — and, like I said, I am so sorry. And I will compensate you — we have peanut butter. And canned food.”

And even when she does, she’s left with frostbite.

Rose pats the blanket lump solemnly.