6: 45.
Friday night.
I found myself staring out the living room window. The sun was setting on the top left corner of it’s outline.
I blink.
Bright. A glint cometed across the middle third.
A truck passed, an older kept up Chevy truck. Custom. Bowling ball white and gray iridescent paint job. Recently washed.
Another blink.
It occurs to me. I wish that was me. Oh just to go on a drive. To go out and beyond past my small borders.
Another profound realization.
One I felt.
Not as acutely as the other time, thank God.
To quote many of the The Uncanny X-Men characters during Chris Claremont’s epic run:
“It. Hurt.”
Question now is, do I leave my curtains open or closed?
Biosphere Station Moore out.
marcwritesmoorewords 