Four people sit in a parking lot. Their cars are scattered throughout the different levels as if by some unspoken rule. A huge hackberry tree stands watchful in the center. The sky is choked with huge gray cotton balls and the wind whips furiously at the glass of their windows in bursts, beckoning them to come out into the chilly afternoon air. Each person is still. In each car, silence.
The prick of the thorn
drew a single drop of blood a brilliant, perfect red that grew, spreading over my body |
Editorial StaffEditor in Chief Categories
All
|