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Roosters and Lions In Monotone. |
| Written by Shoosh Russelcrust | |
| Tuesday, 26 February 2008 | |
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Share it:      But he wasn't out of bed yet, and he was far from decided. He read the clock and subtracted an hour because he'd never gotten around to fixing it. He felt last night. It was on his breath, on the scattering of his pillows, and in the tiremarks that lead out of his driveway. So that was about it. Tomorrow and today, both wearing their widest smile and nicest suit, and standing off for the possession of his morning. It was the everyday battleground. Shots fired so often it's forgotten how definitive and complex the sound is. He hadn't given up on the gray, yet. The blacks and whites, they had their thing, and it worked for them. Every test question they could answer with A, or B, and they could do it so fast they wouldn't have to think about it anymore. The best he could come up with, from the school desk to the bathroom floor, was a unrefined, undiscovered lump of a little A and a little B. He liked it that way. It sure made getting out of bed difficult, though. He watched the clock transform a :00 into a :05, then into a :10. He could see the parking spaces getting more and more distant, and the traffic getting more and more thick. He could also see a trail of footsteps from heavy work boots slugging in the mud, already clocked in and going and reaping today's benefits. He lay on his side in a groove carved into the bed. This, now, today, would be a tough one. There were no lawnmowers and no barking dogs. He got up, put on deodorant and found his keys. There was something irreplaceable about this morning. It wasn't brighter than usual, and he wasn't expecting much. It was a quiet number. Undemanding. Simple. Raw. There wasn't a tumor clinging to his folder, but there wasn't one in his wallet either. There wasn't much of anything, except the kind of silence that makes an empty room a museum. He stepped out onto the porch. The sun was still waking, cracking it's neck and peeling an orange. For now, the moisture in the air and the puddles on the ground were safe, but the sun and the water both knew they had a long day ahead of them, because neither of them could exist for very long together. In the early morning, even if for just today, they seemed to get along, and even if it was timed, he couldn't have cared less. Copyright 2008 Shoosh Russelcrust |
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