I listened as the wall clock ticked seconds away or maybe was adding them to my humble existence. They seemed to fall like Nazi bombs on London. Blitzkrieg!! I only assume this because i have been educated to think of death as the end. Maybe its just a starting point. What if there is no start or finish. What if the horses hooves never cease and they keep running around the track?
She said, "I am never fond of holidays".
I heard what she really said, "My family stresses me out".
The hairs on the back of my neck started to sway. I could read her mind. I felt every dull ache of insufficiency that roamed aimlessly in her cerebral city. Her city ranked number 4 in the universe of places not to visit while holding a loaded gun. The rats there were as large as beavers but with the attitude of a momma dragon. I closed the door.
I spent the night playing in the grass, watching the scenes change rapidly so i wouldn't get bored. Boredom is cheap, but it doesn't know when to be quiet. It finally lost its voice so i set sail for far off destinations. Only to awake without my socks. The morning brought with it a chill in the air. The front glass door was foggy and i could barely see the street. I guess it thought it could hide the fact it was cold out.
I began to type.
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