a short story by Alisa Ungar-Sargon

McDonald’s Coffee

coffeeGila’s chest constricted. She used to think the first wave of déjà vu might be a false alarm, but now she knew better. Once it crested, there was a minimal amount of time before it came crashing down. She tried to ground herself using the smell of the sewage plant, located at the intersection of Howard and McCormick where she was sitting at the stoplight. The overpowering smell seeped through her closed car windows the longer her car idled. It made her marvel at the fact that she was clinging to a sewage scent as the last hope for her sanity.

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