(no subject)
he walked outside at the speed of a comfortable stroll through the aisles of a market. his concrete feet tangled behind him like clumsy infants keeping up with their determined-to-achieve-and-still-keep-up-a-stay-at-home-mom-reputation-mother. he pretended to chew gum, although his mouth was volunerably empty, and despite his best efforts, he could not slow his breathing down. he approached the poorly kempt streetlight and awaited the arrival; he felt important and determined. he had yet to figure out what or who was arriving, but this was a tuesday night, and he knew that going outside was the first step to achieving. like a mute, he waited under the streetlight, neglecting the cold. he was eager to see what it had been (that which he was waiting for), so he studied everything with the same naive curiosity one would have for a naked body during a first encounter. as though his surroundings were foreign, he studied them with the same awareness as one studies another's body without an acknowledgment of his presense. he inspected the bench, the scent of the rain, the older man nearby, the street, the sky. then it had stopped raining, and our less than heroic hero began to understand the importance of tabloids. .