Shipwrecked
Misty mornings and eiderdown evenings, where leaves remain unreleased like suspended rain or freed like fallen crackled confetti, much too early for the bride of spring. The city is shipwrecked with lovers huddled in the cold and those alone perhaps wishing they were otherwise, perhaps content.
A woman peered through the glass doors of a closed shop, checking to see if anyone was still inside. Her blond hair tied back into a smart ponytail, her metal-rimmed glasses were no-nonsense, but her red scarf and long coat oddly rendered her gentle, even a little lost in an unexpected circumstance. In her right hand she clutched something I could not see, but in her left, she held onto the handle of a sizable box simply wrapped in brown paper, with the words 'Happy Birthday Catherine!' scrawled in green and three or four childish drawings of flowers.
Posted by sniffles at May 26, 2002 08:26 AM