:: Sunday, October 20, 2002 ::

"Do you feel like a remnant?" (Nick Drake)

I knew it was ridiculously late even before I opened my eyes. Someone knocked on my door at 5:10 pm, I think. The footprints were still wet, coming from the yard, and for a moment, I was a sleuth who would unravel all the who's and why's. It's so late, with the minute-hand slipping by like friends, and nothing to define today except a dream about airplanes and wet footprints.
I sometimes wish I didn't keep my own secrets so well.

Labels: Yore

:: Bethany Bassett - 3:35 AM :: + ::