Fiction: Neighborhood Meeting

Only Jerome was wavering.

“I dunno,” he said. “Y’know, that’s where all our children were conceived. Where they learned to walk. There are two hamsters buried in the back yard.”

“Jerome,” Andrew said, “we’ve all got memories like those. But the plain fact is, the memories are all we have left. It’s like when a person dies: the spirit lives on but the body is no good any more.”

“Well,” Jerome said, “we might be able to buy it back someday.”

“ ‘Might.’ ‘Someday.’” David shook his head. “That’s the same sinking boat we’re all in, Jerry.” He held up a placating hand. “Now, you don’t have to go in on this with us. No one says you have to. But it sure would be impressive. It sure would send a message to those heartless rich bastards.”

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