by Dave James
The light shone awkwardly, slanting in through the only
opening and just to the left. It was predictable, and full
of oblong holes like an over stuffed cliche. Through the
dust, a song appeared to touch the ground. The movement
stopped, jumped, and disappeared. Too much, too soon, too
little, too late. The end.
Copyright © - 1998. All Rights Reserved. Published with permission of the author.
Last modified: Tue May 5 09:09:20 1998