Septembear Prophecy

A man in a stained bathrobe pins a hand-drawn chart to his fridge, red arrow diving off the page into the linoleum. He circles the same date he circled last year, and the year before. Behind him three monitors glow green while he mutters that the green is the trap. He sets an alarm for the first of the month, opens a fresh can of beans, and waits for the glory.

Reading trades.