Of all the boys who stole time, he was the best.
With a flick of the wrist, a snap of the clip, the hours flew up his sleeve with a zip.
I—I was too scared; I didn’t own a trench coat. And everyone knows you can’t steal time without a trench coat.
We only needed two hours. Every box held exactly two. But I knew the trick for turning two into four.
And four stolen hours would last a week.
(C)2026 Kent Gutschke
MARTIAN DEATH RAY 