one by one
he scoops up the small, dark stones
this one a bit bumpier than the others
another, impossibly smooth
nerveless fingertips lingering on the cool surface
then on to the next token
gravel digging into his kneecaps
hunched shoulders lit up from behind by blinding red and blue
the flashing lights are like a muted television
murky
he may as well be underwater
slipping pebbles into his breast pocket
the cool weight presses on his heart
he cloaks himself in the calm of the inanimate
monotony is deafening
blocking out light or sound
and breezes that carry sharp, metallic smells
so he continues to hoard stones
slow and forced
one by one
Professional Portfolio 