meromictic
a short story about fathers, sons, snoring, and a special kind of lake
Marc regretted electing to drive. At least if his father were driving, he wouldn’t be able to look up any of this stuff on his phone, and then maybe he’d allow an ounce of silence between them.
“Now, this here says these lakes are meromictic,” his father announced.
“I’m sorry, what?” Marc asked, having never heard that word in his life.
“Meromictic,” his f…
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