There was nothing

There was nothing to eat in the apartment and he had to walk down to the glowing Vons on Centinela Boulevard for food. He thought of waiting until morning when he would be obligated to leave the sundrenched building, but then, although he was not hungry, decided against waiting. It was only eight o’clock, the sky was green and the trip would reacquaint him with the nuanced dusk lighting of the environs, which had slipped from his memory since walking the previous evening. If he just sat around, the temptation to go to sleep again would become irresistible. The lurking futon in dusk, the drowsy cats, both drawing eyes down like the spring shower passed with steel tumult heavy on the sky.

Critical Response:

« | »