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Rated: E · Prose · Experience · #1620040
A very short account of waiting for the Q train.
He stands in a golden streak of sun sandwiched between two crumbling buildings on ocean ave.
"God that's beautiful" he thinks aloud.
A slash of sunshine cut through the dusk of the platform. It was like God had poked a hole in the big blue curtain and was peeking to see how he was doing, winking his fiery eye at him.
"Here's looking at you kid." He'd say in his booming biblical voice. If the big guy was around to talk, that is.

"Bogart" the man on the platform mouthed on silent lips. He was young, but with something ancient inside of him, like his heart was in a sarcaffagus.

The warmth was ALMOST uncomfortable for him. Making his forehead sweat beads that stumbled down his newly rough cheek. The train slipped into the station silently snatching away the sunlight with its metal mass of mass transit. The shadow pulled a rug out from under him and he felt uneasy as he stepped onto the train, like he had missed something profound.
© Copyright 2009 Jack Kelly (skyjuggler at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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