Margaret Owen stared out into the distance from her quiet Vermont ranch, taking a break from attending to the oddly large quantity of dishes left in the sink. She never quite considered how the sink managed to be full by every evening, considering her husband...

I hate it here. It seems redundant to say so, I realize this. Everyone hates it here… well actually I don’t know. Maybe except Len, but he’s a freak so whatever. Shit… where are we? I keep forgetting. France? We’re still here? Shit, have we made...