Day 45: Play That Fiddle Music, Fool
The City of Wayne is burning tonight. I can feel the claustrophobic heat of the ever-encroaching flames, sitting here under the dying gasp of the twilight’s last gleam. I can hear the chorused coughing cacophony of a city’s choreographed death rattle rattling. I can smell the cloyingly unique stink of the pyre’s smoke blowing in through little windows originally opened in a last gasp attempt to finally breathe free. Little did I know that it would only let in the muffled wheeze of distracted bad decisions, sharpening the precision focus on the desperately unmet desires of a single solitary guilty man. Many mutual mistakes were made that night, behind the masked bandit kiss of a pandemically inspired stolen embrace. Harsh lessons were learned hours after, blowing …
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