I saw a car on fire today. The embers were burning beneath it like faulty fireworks but the smoke billowed too wildly. I could barely breathe, or shouldn't have kept breathing, truly.
I walked away, closer to the Post Office (it's the Post Office), and when I turned around, the hood had exploded in flames. I tried and tried to get a picture with my tiny cameraphone, but no luck, I was breathing volcanic ash, like May 18th.
Also, there was this older gentlemen, some would say 'silver fox' walking in my direction, and I him, as I headed to work. He was cocking his eye at me. I cocked back, wondering how strange I must look for him to cock his eye. Pues, the closer I came to the man, the more aware I was of the fact that his cocked eye was a permanent state.
He was slightly disfigured.
On one level, I feel Awful, and on the other, Nope, I still feel awful.
I have a whole set-up for a novel. I just need to write it.
Isn't that always the issue?
3 comments:
Always has been, always will be. Also, I found the opener hilarious.
I love a silver fox.
Yeah. It's always the issue.
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