I have always found more
treasures within the city than I ever have along a country road. A beetle working his way over a stone that
happens to be in his path is hardly as poetic as an old man lost in his
overcoat, making his way to the watch repair – still reliving old appointments,
his watch remains his lifeline to his self-worth.
From an upstairs apartment window
her familiar yell interrupts the friendly baseball game taking place on the
street below. Just as it was yesterday,
the Green Buick is home plate and anything beyond Mitscher’s delivery truck is
a home run. She has made tomato soup and
grilled cheese sandwiches. Although she
has gone through the motions of preparing lunch, she is lost, deep in the soap
opera being played out before her. Her
concern that Erica’s pregnancy remains a secret for now is genuine. Her hands unconsciously wring her apron, she
feels herself once again breathing, as the camera moves in on Todd’s puzzled
expression and they fade to commercial.
The beetle has lost his footing
in his attempt to traverse a formable downed branch and flips upon his
back. Kicking franticly at the air, he
attempts to right himself. Soon
exhausted, he slows but doesn’t stop, as he knows his vulnerability.
Leaving
the repair shop the old man closely examines his timepiece. He reads again the farewell inscription on
the back, unaware of the pop-fly plummeting rapidly towards Main and Fedora.
“Lunch.” Screeches the voice from
the apartment window, catching the old man’s attention, he removes his hat to
look up.
Crack! Goes the beetle’s hard
shell, as the Blue Jay digs into his meal.
1 comment:
OMG!
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