Big Pete, leaning against his bike, squinted at the sky. “Nothing ends here. Remember the week Tuesday lasted six days?”
Little Pete pulled a licorice twist from his pocket, snapped it in two, and handed half over. pete and pete complete
“This is different,” Little Pete said. “This is the end. The last verse. The last note.” Big Pete, leaning against his bike, squinted at the sky
Little Pete sat on the curb, tuning his radio with a paperclip. The station was always there—a frequency that played only one song, a tuba-and-glockenspiel waltz that nobody else seemed to hear. But tonight, the signal was breaking up. “It’s fading,” he muttered. “The song’s trying to end.” leaning against his bike
“Now what?” Big Pete asked.