Turning back, you climb the stairs to the next landing. You find your way blocked by an
invisible barrier. You extend your arms, pushing, feeling for a break. You laugh, realizing
that you probably look like a common street mime doing this. You recall a joke about a
mime who was murdered by being placed in a glass box in a park. The passerbys thought
he was only acting as he suffocated. You laugh as you remember this.
"Yes, it's a sick world, and I'm a part of it." you say to yourself. You pull a cigarette out
of a crumbled Lucky Strike packet and flick the lighter you stole from your father as a kid,
the only thing you have to remember him by.
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 7:17am on Nov 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.