Control

The man sitting across from me had just gotten back from North Carolina, and already he needed to go again. He never flew, instead choosing to drive cross-country, spend the time. He held his backpack tight against his body, and his legs shifted beneath him seeking a comfortable position. The driver departed the bus to use the bathroom. The man looked around and asked if this was how it always went.

No. 152

Currents

Currents of electricity run beneath my skin. Seated for too long, the energy has nowhere to go, building towards an inevitable catharsis. In the corner of my eye, the shadow of a tree branch dances, the leaves painting with light against the barren stucco wall. I imagine myself joining the tree, and on the wall beside it appears my own shadow dancing with the rhythm of the wind.

No. 063