I descend into the basement, every day, for work. Clacking away on the keyboard, bathed in the blue glow.

Ostensibly.

The reality is I’m gazing beyond the screen, through the wainscoting and cinder block. Into the soil. The teeming, rich loam.

Neurons flickering to the rhythmic buzz of fluorescent tube-lighting.

Tim Boiteau writes in Michigan. He has two novels out now, and two more coming this year (The Nilwere and The Neighborhood Game). During his spare time he jogs and is Editor at Every Day Fiction. Find his editorial picks on twXitter at @timboiteau