mishmashelle

Snowy Morn beautiful ballet of fluffy feather snowflakes refracted, reflected in iced-up windshields cars with insufficient tire tread slide sideways across unseen yellow lines metal embracing twisted metal, dancing in the surreal twilight of early morn. garish expressions of horror and shock frozen on white-knuckled pale-faced passengers firm-set panic and frantic spinning-of-wheels drivers try in vain to avoid the inevitable tragedy embossed in snapshot slow-motion, the crash a-clamor clashing the quiet frosty morn. muted signals shine through cloud-thick fog festive holiday decor in go-green and slow-yellow and no!-red in an

Quitting Time      4:58 PM. Close enough.      Adam closed his email and shut down his computer. The actions refreshed him. He felt a little more energetic than he had all day, like he always did at quitting time. A smile tugged the corners of his face as he drove home past the same tired shops as he had for, what was it? Almost six years now.      It was Tuesday, which meant cheap hi-balls at the local pub, but Adam preferred beer, so he bought a 15-can pack and drove home. He tossed the case into the fridge, grabbed a can and and sat on the couch. Practiced fingers unlaced his boots. Sore socked feet stretched out on the coffee table