One, one-thousand, two, one-thousand, three, one-thousand, four He sucks in a breath, and I release one I watch him, mouth open, gums black, eyes closed
By Tuesday Fuller3 years ago in Poets
I rounded the corner and was taken back by the stillness of the parking lot. It was dark outside, a thin layer of frost covered my car reflecting dimmed lot lights. How long had I been in there?
An old man grumbled into his glass, while I listened from across the bar. He caressed a black book with yellowed pages and a threadbare bind. He was protective of it, tucking it against his chest whenever someone would get too close.
By Tuesday Fuller3 years ago in Humans