Lars drew the smoke into his mouth and buried it under his chest where he felt the warm otherness rubbing and swirling until he couldn't hold it. Then with slow, agonizing pleasure, grey, fugitive flowers piped from his lips and slanted into the air. His left elbow dangled between his legs as he sat brooding in the black morass of shadow and rain water and smoke.
-Now what, he asked his fingers which he knew were his but were numb from the cold so that they felt strange and disconnected. A student stood on the opposite side of the street, huddling from the water that whirled down the eaves intently looking at nothing.
It was the March rain that pattered chilly and sterile with a meaningless splash. Lars shuddered as if he were cold, coiled himself then sprang out into the falling clatter work.
(incomplete fragment)
 germanicus2 · Wed Mar 04, 2009 @ 10:26pm · 0 Comments |
