“Clarke, there’s nothing in Hafford.” I told him this while sitting in the lookout shed at the dump. He sent a weary look in my direction. “I mean, there’s nothing. Just some houses and a couple stores.”
“So move to a big city then.”
“Yeah.” My self-pity transformed itself into self-boredom. “Damn.”
“Or have kids.”
"Ha."
I wandered over to the Trees later in the day. I ran my fingers over the bark. Then I pressed my cheek against a knot. I could feel lines forming on my skin. Breathing hard I waited for the imprint. Thirty seconds.
I'm out of cigarettes.
3 comments:
I really like this post.
I should keep reading this so that I can say I have lived a full life.
Your fiction makes me feel things I have already done, and think about doing more things like them
Boyda:
Thanks.
Forrest:
What beautiful sentiments. Thank you.
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