Glitterer

GG King

When the Carbonas died, Atlanta wept. Mothers and children, left orphaned by the deceased, wandered the streets with tears streaming mottled faces. Strong and silent men struggled to maintain composure, and they retreated to basement workbenches, biting lips, cracking knuckles, running hands through thinning hair, sullenly wondering: “Why?” Skies darkened. A palpable feeling of devastating…