the rumours of his death may not have been accurate.
The sun was glorious.
I could feel every bit of me both seen and unseen being cleansed by its warmth.
The wind was whipping everything around it. A stiff gale from the southwest bent the trees and caused trash to swirl and dance.
Then he passed. All day glo pink and orange, he was a blur through the parking lot.
I know that guy, I thought to my self. He was moving so quickly that I didn’t have time to remember his name. Bike shop. Walmart greeter. Roadie.
He as almost gone.
Faster than impulse.
Faster than the speed of thought.
Dude was moving faster than the wind.
“Hey weirdo,” I shouted while leaning on the horn.
He never looked back.
Fuck it, I thought, while throwing my book to the passenger seat, adjusting my chair, buckling my seat belt AND starting the car all at the same time.
I caught up with him a kilometre down the road where the path crosses the a bog leading to the eastern bluff.
Like a puppy at the park, I danced excitedly on the path placing myself directly in his way.
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