
How Happy The Home by Ben Carter Olcott
And so I was walking, as if away from something, although there was nowhere to go, nowhere to leave to, only the road outside the Airbnb to walk down once again. It was dusty, a thin strip of asphalt in the dusty town, a grid of maybe eight roads, a flash of a town in the Mojave. We’d been in the Airbnb for seven days, expected to stay only four, but the Emergency Event, which had precipitated our departure, had not diminished. It was still unsafe at home, and if not literally unsafe, potentially unsafe, it was possible the Event








