one morning, as i walked.
they walked past him in flashes. red, blue, black, or was that dark blue, he couldn't decide. he tried to lift his head. hearing the sounds of their footsteps distinctly pounding against his ears. where is he. there's something fidgeting on him.he's going to be late, he needs to hurry. but why are his footsteps so heavy. were there things cuffed onto his leg.
he's wearing a light blue shirt with faint lines running straight down. horizontal and vertical lines. are they called boxes? the way they cut across each other. or are they called chequers? why did he wear this shirt? he isn't too sure. did they match his pants? maybe. a pair of black pants goes with any colour, surely it'll go with boxes? he do not have time to think. he's rushing
where is he heading to. the escalator. it's being blocked by those colourful things again.
the thing fidgeted again. it smells nice. weirdly nice. and soft.
where is he? he sure don't want to miss any step.
and then, it gurgled. and it smiled. and gave him a great big hug.
it's another monday morning. people rushing to work, minding their own business. he is so overwhelmed with the lack of sleep that he could barely walk properly.
but he needs this job. the baby needs him to keep the job.
the cheery baby pulled at his father's tie, and barely blinked his big round eyes, as big as his dad's spectacles, which strangely to him, he could see something moving.and so he bobbed along with the image, busying himself with that and those flashing past his tiny back.
posted by pearlewurly @ 7/10/2005 01:22:00 pm
