roman numeral IV.
Julian Harring lies in the grass staring at the New York sky. He is of medium height, with unruly dark brown hair and a youthful face concealed by years of facial hair. The Clouds are moving at a moderately fast speed; he wonders if they'll ever slow down one day.
Or stop, just for him, just so he can count and name each and every cloud in the sky.
He wishes he could control the world so he could control his life.
The clouds are different and all the same, each one having traveled an incredulous distance after being conceived by numerable gases.
"Each one has a story," he says to himself.
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The smoldering end of a cigarette butt lands next to his ear; Julian sighs in retreat, wipes his eyes, and realizes who's there.
"What do you want?" he asks in contempt.
"Cool it, Jules" Mark Vander speaks in a heavy British accent. He is taller and a little larger than Julian, but skinny nonethelesss. He is Blonde, with a mustache. He and Julian both look like they were plucked from a 1970s Macy's catalog.
"Hey man, why don't you go back to England and leave me the hell alone?"
Mark laughs, and steps on the cigarette butt.
"Always grumpy, Jules. Always grumpy. Listen, ol' Shep wants us playing at the coffee shop today. He wanted you in particular. You better show..."
Mark, not expecting a reply, abruptly takes off.
Julian stares at one particular cloud.
"What's your story?"
leZebre · Mon Oct 29, 2007 @ 01:43am · 0 Comments |