read in browser It is 12:45am. I cannot sleep, because the government is occupying and killing its citizens — again, and anew. I can hear the crack of my jaw, too tense as I munch on leftover pizza, standing over the kitchen counter, straight from the foil packet in the fridge. I’m listening to the slow drip of the faucets I squeaked open — the kitchen sink, and the bathtub — so the pipes won’t freeze. A foot of snow used to be normal, has become anomalous. I suppose the ice never was. I turn...