The Backside
ACT I Frankie O'Brien stood at the edge of the parking lot and looked at the bus that was supposed to take him to the launch site. It was a grey bus. It had been a grey bus for as long as he could remember, maybe longer. The paint was peeling in places, revealing rust that looked like brown scabs. There was a number stencilled on the side in faded white letters: 47. Frankie didn't know what the...
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