Good Morning

The logical side of her brain sleeps longer, leaving control in the hands of her subconscious. The light is too bright.

The man should have gone back. That’s how it should have ended. But he didn’t. The girl was lost. Even her face is forgotten and the man fades too. Was he young or old?

What’s the point?

The point is, it is morning and she has things to do. The man will never find her. She is awake.

Oats and coats. The belt squeals as two boys fight in the backseat. Buckle Up! More music, less talk.

Is it only about the money, or is there an element of challenge? No, she’s just a sucker. This is me. She and I are kindred spirits, casting about in the ether, touching only in the darkness.

Her spirit calls and mine goes wandering into the wrong places like a sim character up against a barricade trying to follow the mouse pointer. Over and over.

Elite birds fly higher, while the inferior crawl in the muck.

It’s the bubbles in glue we cherish, like ladybugs on leaves. She smiles.

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