June 15, 2011

Writing Wednesday

His back was numb against the cool stone. Somewhere to his left, a pipe was dripping, and he counted the seconds by the steady pats of water. He tilted his head back, his gaze following the symmetrical columns up and up until they disappeared into the hazy mist of early morning. It still hurt to breathe.

Where am I?

The air was odd here... off, somehow. He watched the light shift—-reflected in warm yellow squares along panes of silver and concrete—-and realized, with a twist of his mouth, that it was nothing more than an imitation. An illusion of sunrise.

The irony was enough to pull a dry laugh from his throat. How intriguing.

He rose to his feet, excitement renewing his energy as he disappeared between the industrial lines of the city.


I like pretty guys :3
 

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