The Story Thus Far

He squinted his right eye as he covered his forehead with a salute,trying to shield his eyes as he looked up at the patches of blue running between the tops of the trees. His feet were tired, hot, and they were griping at him. Left, right, left, right...over and over. His sneakers were dirty and well worn. The heel was just starting to be weaned from the rest of the sole, and it made a light flapping sound as he walked , like a sail in the wind. The sun was playing peek a boo with him, occasionally disappearing behind the few orphan clouds which had lost their way and stumbled into his part of the world.

His body felt like one big sheet of flypaper. A fine film of oil and grit covered his neck, his chest, and his arms. Now and then, a slight breeze would waft across his part of the planet, and offer some relief from the giant heating lamp in the sky. He was old enough to feel his joints moving. A coat of silence had been painted on the world, with the occasional fly marking a missed spot. The country road in East Texas was lined by trees, mostly pines, and as he surveyed the side of the road where the blacktop ends, he could see fire ant mounds, like alien kingdoms, like natural milemarkers, punctuating the grass and dirt.

The sounds of nature were somewhat reassuring. The occasional song of a bird, the occasional buzz or a bee, the rustle of grass as the occasional armadillo would waddle though the foliage, all acted as a natural lullaby, but not one to put you to sleep, but one that reassures you that there was some sort of order, that nature at least, was still working like it should.