The ache travels upward.

An ant tries to find a way. A cleaning mop dries in the open. Three gigantic puffs of cloud are drifting west. Soon they will envelop the sun, and when they do, the sunrays won’t be able to reach me. On the street in front, a boy caught a bird, it is as flat as anything could be. No width, no height, no eyes. The boy is trying to make it fly. It is so light, so lifeless. The boy steps onto it as he waits for his friend. The three clouds have become one in no time. You cannot say which was which as they all flow together. The sky turned golden for five minutes. Now the light is getting pulled away from here, going down with the hot ball. A cloud burns red as the sun falls through it, making a hole in its stomach. When I look up, it looks like somebody crumpled the whole sky. As I decide to sit longer, all the movement as in now begins to cease.

Copyright © Tomic Riter. All rights reserved.

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