Today, I sat in a cafe right up in front against the tall glass windows. I stared out at all the passerbys and cars and meters being fed and all of it, even the sidewalks themselves were suffused with an alabaster glow, as if their insides swelled pearl-like beneath their skin. I ordered a tea with milk and honey and remembered a time walking along the beach with TRUE, just before a storm. She stopped and faced the sea, her arms folded. "See those whitecaps," she said, looking straight ahead, "They're a sign of ill portent."
I decided to leave the cafe. I put on my coat and by the time I was out the door and down the corrugated tin ramp that connected it to the sidewalk, it had started to snow. A hush fell over everything. I sang to myself and winked at all the pretty girls hurrying past. How come it always gets so silent when it snows?
Posted by sterling at 10:17:00 PM