excerpt 001

There were reminders everywhere. Whimsical tired melodies, insufficiently illuminated parking lots, vinyl purchased when together, broken sentences and ballpoint pens, overheard misgivings of Bradbury and Bukowski, and the air we breathe constantly lurked around various everyday corners. All passively destructive (in the grander scheme of things) and equally as unforgiving, they occupied dreams, half forgotten, and graced the foggy reflections of storefront windows casually strolled by and glanced into, occasionally claiming such bold things as "the sky is not really falling."