Crash

The truck stopped at a diagonal in the intersection, skid marks still steaming behind it. The engine gave a gasp, then fell silent. The rear bike wheel had become separated from the frame and lay dented beneath a front tire. The rider sprawled across the concrete. One car drove past the truck, then another, then another. The owner of the gas station on the corner stepped outside and then turned and went back in.

No. 155

Aftermath

On weekend mornings he drove out to the beach. The marine layer always hung overhead, but he didn’t mind; it was easier on the dog. Parked on the street the meters weren’t active ‘til noon. He got warm on the walk to the sand. Just past the canals, he smelled oil and burning plastic, then felt the air slightly warm. Down an alley he saw the remnants of a truck: black smoke tendrils rising into the sky, roof scorched, glass blown out across the pavement, embers smoldering in the bed, tailgate long ago removed. 

He paused, looking around for a witness, someone else who could call the authorities. Instead, his dog pulled him down the sidewalk, eager to run. When they hit the sand, he unlatched the dog’s harness. It took off, kicking clouds of sand behind its stride, headlong into the mist until all he could see was its silhouette.

No. 132

Flight

Three birds came over the mountain and swooped into the space between hills. The late evening sun illuminated the sky in purples and oranges. As they crested an apartment building, the bird leading turned and snapped at one of others, who then turned and hid among the bushes. The remaining birds climbed into the air again and barrel rolled together between the fronds of a palm.

No. 098

Intersection

A neighbor placed a tripod in the middle of a four-way stop intersection. She stood in front of it, giving a speech about something, her muffled voice unable to travel. Between her and the camera, her three-legged dog lay on the asphalt. Work trucks and sedans drove around her as she kept her focus on the camera, refusing to move or acknowledge the busyness of the neighborhood.

No. 094

Alarm

The automated voice came over the intercom and instructed everyone to proceed to the nearest exit. White lights flashed, accompanied by the high-BPM music that continued to play over the speakers. Nobody moved. The treadmills kept running, barbells kept pushing, and foam rollers kept stretching. The automated voice repeated its warning.

“Sorry,” one of the coaches said to a client. “I was on fire and they had to put me out.”

No. 065