Stuck in the cold, with a destination so close he can hear the inside warmth taunting him. Notions of a break-in procedure wear thin after two hilariously inept attempts to free the man from his boundary fall very much short. The hourly clock ticks and thickens the fog falling from the hills, it fills the poor boys brain with angry accusing thoughts. Directed at those not even remotely responsible, he explains the quote from the prevailing rendition of Whom is going to show up first: ambulance or housemates? Regardless, there is a chance for his patience to grow. Maybe one day he’ll be able to sit without purpose and not feel restless, irritated or deprecatingly frustrated. The burst bubble of safety, gave contemporary solace to the angel waiting for an answer.
At least to respect the journey we’re here for, trying to spread a veritable cheer in the form of a frightening sighting, their cunning and distracting nature, the long overture dials a timeless moan before they finally return. Squeaking fear into passing pedestrians, their biggest giveaway is the trailing pink rope from the briefcase. The sicken soak, the clouds stoked stare, the weather today is fair to those whom are surrounded by the comfort of central heating. I was wrong before, look at me bleating. When I said this is the last time I would forget something so vital to the unpredictability of social community. We are puny in historic scripture. What makes you think things have changed?
Our little failure.