I looked up from the escalator and could see myself in the chrome-like mirror finish of the ceiling, surrounded by cheesy neon lights and the sounds of jets departing and arriving. Though she was leaving for now, we would intersect again in exactly a week in this same place where reality is fogged by the bright lights and noise – we would appreciate that time had passed and homeward bound had arrived on the rotation. The wind blowing on the chimes remind me of her and I smile. It's okay... already Tuesday
The Fuel
Have a short story, poem, image, or some simple thoughts related to "intersection?" If interested, please send them to me. Accepted submissions will be posted within two days. No commercial links.
Copyright 2001-2002 © jenett and respective contributors. All rights reserved. Soundtrack by Christian Grewell.
