I sat at the eatery across the street from the hotel, scanning the menu, hoping for some new addition that wreaked of something other than freezers or cans. No avail.
It’s been raining for the past four days it seems.
The puddles, so deep, I’ve realized my shoes are failing. Gaps in the rubber
soul sole have separated, allowing the chilly wetness to seep in, soaking my socks.
It’s gusty tonight, and in an empty city, there’s a hint of Something Wicked This Way Comes — though there are no weather vanes to cement the notion.
I bought these short hikers over ten years ago, while attending the university in this very town.
I take good care of stuff, I think, and they could serve some other purpose, albeit without the rain.
I hate letting things go.