Our lady of sorrows by Ursula Regazzoli 2018
The car jolted along the winding forest road that must have been last paved twenty years ago. Evangeline was grateful for the shade of the huge oak and pine trees along this road that blocked out the blistering sun. With every rock they drove over and every jerk of the car, her sweaty skin brushed against the leather seats and she whimpered in pain. Her mother, who was refusing to acknowledge her existence never mind her hurt, turned up the radio in response.
“It’s a hot, hot, hot day here in Milwaukee, and I’m not just talking about the chicks!” the radio DJ practically shouted with enthusiasm Evangeline didn’t even know was possible this early on a Sunday morning.