The rain came down so hard it turned the road into a river of black glass. Headlights stretched across the wet pavement. Cars blurred past each other. Horns cried somewhere in the distance. Inside one old silver car, Stew leaned back in the driver’s seat with one hand on the wheel and the other reaching blindly into a bag of chips. “Come on,” he muttered, digging around. “I know there’s one more good chip in here.” His phone buzzed in the cup holder. MOM Stew glanced down for half a second
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