Story by Alison Jean Kinney
When I arrived at the farm I found Gerald swaying softly in his rocking chair, the last glass of hard banana cider clenched in his hand. His harsh greeting was one of a pirate just having lost sight of his treasure, and he had a sad story to tell. I stood in the doorway shedding my things onto the worn wooden floor.
He burst into drunken tears, “The bananas are sick, all of them!” he said. “They’re all sick! They’re all dying!”
Read the full story here: The Bananas Are Sick…