West Virginia summers were always green, but it had been two years now since we’d been on our own, and Deep Hollow was positively choked with it. Green was overtaking all the houses, and ours was no exception. Vines had started to creep under the back door.

One day this would happen. A speaker would appear in the clear blue sky.

Now it’s dark. The boardwalk teems with life, ghost beach people who are here one week and gone the next.

Okay, you ready? This is how it will go: You will drive/walk/bike/whatever out to a gas station.

First, you find an old house.

In these trying times, when the very notion of a democracy is beginning to seem like fiction, it’s important to remember the little things that unite us all as humans.

Start by standing in front of the mirror.