Walking briskly as she rushes to make an appointment with a prospective client, she suddenly stops in front of the bright red double doors that open to the Redding St. diner. Thought it looks like a drop of rain, a salty tear runs from the well of her eye. It rolls off her face, down her flowery sun dress, and lands on the toe of her brown leather boots. She turns, almost in a gasp of breath, when she hears footsteps behind her.
"It was a beautiful place." She says, with a dismal nature.
"It wasn't, really." I say, with a cracked smile.
+ + +
"Welcome everyone, to the 18th and 1/4 anniversary of 128 Redding St." I announce over the PA system in the Diner. They all clap in approval. "Thank you all for joining me on this fine occasion, for music, and food, and lots of other great stuff."
BOM BOM BOM! *drum noise*
The music goes in an uproar and everyone starts dancing once again. It's a jolly throng where people lose their souls again and become whole. It's as if time itself stops and the eternal realm gives itself to our countenance.
We again are delivered.
A bottle pops in the back room. An alarm sounds. A quickening shriek fills the room. A woman runs from the back. A lick of read flame explodes and engulfs the kitchen. A group of kids runs from the diner. A siren is hear down the avenue. A jet of water is released a little too late. A diner is diminished to ruble.
A smile cracks my face.
+ + +
"Why did you do it?" She says.
"It was for my own good." I say.
"You were just fine." she says.
"I was lost." I say.
+ + +
Regarding the little things; they matter only to the chosen.
Though we may journey through life, and those that may shuffle through our doors will influence, it is recognizable that one must give to receive.
Having been ruled by our peers for centuries to come, it is well said that the wise man owns his own mind.
+ + +
It's a summer day and I'm sitting on the roadside waiting for a cab. The air breathes itself nimbly on my tongue, and a red glow seeps on the horison of the highrises.
Goodbye and goodnight, for time itself must end, and shadows are but lurking in the soles of our footsteps. I keep but only the quiet people with me.
My mind maybe clensed, but in my heart they reside.
We again are delivered.
A bottle pops in the back room. An alarm sounds. A quickening shriek fills the room. A woman runs from the back. A lick of read flame explodes and engulfs the kitchen. A group of kids runs from the diner. A siren is hear down the avenue. A jet of water is released a little too late. A diner is diminished to ruble.
A smile cracks my face.
+ + +
"Why did you do it?" She says.
"It was for my own good." I say.
"You were just fine." she says.
"I was lost." I say.
+ + +
Regarding the little things; they matter only to the chosen.
Though we may journey through life, and those that may shuffle through our doors will influence, it is recognizable that one must give to receive.
Having been ruled by our peers for centuries to come, it is well said that the wise man owns his own mind.
+ + +
It's a summer day and I'm sitting on the roadside waiting for a cab. The air breathes itself nimbly on my tongue, and a red glow seeps on the horison of the highrises.
Goodbye and goodnight, for time itself must end, and shadows are but lurking in the soles of our footsteps. I keep but only the quiet people with me.
My mind maybe clensed, but in my heart they reside.
