© 2014 Aaron Atkinson

Cracked Windows

There are six of us in the seven person van. We just crossed the Iowa/Minnesota border headed north for a week of canoeing, camping and fishing. Our bodies and clothes are still clean and fresh when a smell that’s normally reserved for the trip back home wafts over us.

Ed: Whew! Tim was that you?

Tim: Nope. That smell came from the outside.

Ed: No way, Timmy. Unless we just passed a fart farm, that’s all you.


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