The leaves clogging the gutters were mostly thick, yellow and bright. Fucking cold, too. If I had been anything other than 8 years old, I might have said so.
The sky was grey and heavy; the wind whipped. But we were only a few stores down from the cab station.
The cab station where everything was brown. Where there was always a fat man or woman behind the desk.
Where the whole place hung with the smell of cigar smoke,a thick cloud always hugging the ceiling.
Large windows you could look out of.
And a Pac-Man video game.
That day was no exception. We got to play while we waited for the cab.
My brother told me I was a Fucker under his breath.
Mom pretended she did not hear.
I remember when the rain began. Straight, slick sheets of grey slamming into the earth.
The cab pulled up and it was cold running out to it.
We were wet and itchy by the time we got home.
The sky was grey and heavy; the wind whipped. But we were only a few stores down from the cab station.
The cab station where everything was brown. Where there was always a fat man or woman behind the desk.
Where the whole place hung with the smell of cigar smoke,a thick cloud always hugging the ceiling.
Large windows you could look out of.
And a Pac-Man video game.
That day was no exception. We got to play while we waited for the cab.
My brother told me I was a Fucker under his breath.
Mom pretended she did not hear.
I remember when the rain began. Straight, slick sheets of grey slamming into the earth.
The cab pulled up and it was cold running out to it.
We were wet and itchy by the time we got home.
Comments