Thoughts Pressed to Gas
On the first day of the month of May of the year 2020 I hand her a box.
“Mom, it's not until tomorrow.”
“Yes, honey, I know, but if I don't give it till tomorrow, it might be too late.”
With trembling fingers, she opens the box and takes out the contents. It's just a small bottle. Very carefully she turns the cap off and looks at me asking. There's already some smoke crinking up from the fragile neck.