Damp and moist, drying in the gloomy daylight of the mid-November, early morn, the cracked and broken pieces of cement and concrete that made up the old sidewalks of what I call Desolation Alley. As I walk through the streets of this small town that time seems to have forgotten, to get to Tanyas house. It seems as if there are only people living in every fourth house. I am not saying that Tanya lives at the edge of the world but after the second house past hers, I would swear that there are cobwebs from there out as far as the eye can see and draped over the road. The dull roar of man-made thunder rumbles up behind me and getting closer. And for good reason, as I am walking down the middle of the street. Unswayed, I continue to walk in a slow stride, much like a zombie, down the middle of the street. A simple tap of the horn would let me know someone is behind me. But, a repeated tapping let me know exactly who was behind me. And I continued down the middle of the street until I got to her house and she pulled into the driveway.
Posted on: Sun, 25 Jan 2015 11:07:17 +0000
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