The prospect that had opened up shut tight like crocodile jaws. It hammers at you day after day, hinting at first and then out right demanding. You’re engaged elsewhere, giving your time and energy to someone else and then when you aren’t the offer is withdrawn. Humans want what they can’t have. So it is they build utopias and paradises in their heads. So it is they make plans for rosy futures. So it is they crucify, behead or otherwise dismantle the ones sent to show them certain ways to making it all that bit better. What can you expect from hylics, from somatics? something tongued into his ear. The thought made him shudder and wonder about division. The street below became dappled darker shades of gray. All about, the buildings and the sky, the carpet and the little boxes people put money into so they could leave their cars unattended, was gray. Two bald men crossed the road while a cyclist glided past. On the surface of the asphalt, in big block letters painted all in white but flaking and missing parts, the word SLOW gazed up at him. If it was an accusation, he could live with it quite happily.


2 Responses to “SLOW”

  1. A+ would read again

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