A beautiful drowsy sunset fell upon the city that evening. Horizontal streaks of light and shade cropped the streets in orange and shadow as passerby’s leisured along the pier. Extending into suburbia, the youthful enjoyed the waning moments of the last few home run attempts before dusk. Even the feverishly laboring beavers stopped building their dams and let water pass unscathed by their mighty sticks.
Buried in the depths of a concrete parking garage, Morton had missed the sunset. He opened the red door to his apartment and placed his key on the counter. A single key is not uncommon for those who own nothing to their name. The key provided Morton access to the world, yet everyday he walked a lonely walk back to the door from which he came. There are situations we all face in life that acquire adjustment. Morton had offhandedly hung in life’s hammock, unaware that it was a rug which could be swepted from under him.
There was no emotional attachment to the city for Morton. He could stay or move any time he wished, but without a destination in mind he squandered that notion. He had heard they were giving away houses in Detroit for the creative to rebuild and gentrify. Putting talent to work, that a boy! He would dismiss the idea as life threatening. The Peace Corps young man! Not his thing. He confided in doubt.
The next morning Morton awoke and stretched his chubby frame, drank a glass of water and wondered onto the street wearing the clothes he slept in. His usual workout routine of walking aimlessly around the city in his pajamas. A true Olympian, rarely would he awake early enough to catch the commuters who jammed the streets. However, this morning was an exception. They aligned themselves in moving boxes armed with steaming bean juice to sip, all headed towards the epicenter of commerce. He watched their faces with casual intent and would look away if a stranger noticed his gaze. They were busy doing busy people things. A lifestyle Morton didn’t understand and would not want, but he liked to watch them in the morning when he could.
Dawn is an interesting time for those who freelance in life. Signaling more the end of the day than the beginning of the next. Morton would stay up late dabbling in frivolities, a lackadaisical bodyguard armed with knowledge taught to him by the kung fu movie Gods. A lot of people are scared of clowns, Morton T. Smiley was scared of would-be-attackers. At even the faintest unwanted jiggle of a lock, he would not hesitate to hide in a kitchen cabinet with fingers crossed masked intruders wouldn't be scavenging for cookware.
Even the feverishly laboring beavers stopped building their dams and let water pass unscathed by their mighty sticks
Buried in the depths of a concrete parking garage, Morton had missed the sunset. He opened the red door to his apartment and placed his key on the counter. A single key is not uncommon for those who own nothing to their name. The key provided Morton access to the world, yet everyday he walked a lonely walk back to the door from which he came. There are situations we all face in life that acquire adjustment. Morton had offhandedly hung in life’s hammock, unaware that it was a rug which could be swepted from under him.
There was no emotional attachment to the city for Morton. He could stay or move any time he wished, but without a destination in mind he squandered that notion. He had heard they were giving away houses in Detroit for the creative to rebuild and gentrify. Putting talent to work, that a boy! He would dismiss the idea as life threatening. The Peace Corps young man! Not his thing. He confided in doubt.
The next morning Morton awoke and stretched his chubby frame, drank a glass of water and wondered onto the street wearing the clothes he slept in. His usual workout routine of walking aimlessly around the city in his pajamas. A true Olympian, rarely would he awake early enough to catch the commuters who jammed the streets. However, this morning was an exception. They aligned themselves in moving boxes armed with steaming bean juice to sip, all headed towards the epicenter of commerce. He watched their faces with casual intent and would look away if a stranger noticed his gaze. They were busy doing busy people things. A lifestyle Morton didn’t understand and would not want, but he liked to watch them in the morning when he could.
Dawn is an interesting time for those who freelance in life. Signaling more the end of the day than the beginning of the next. Morton would stay up late dabbling in frivolities, a lackadaisical bodyguard armed with knowledge taught to him by the kung fu movie Gods. A lot of people are scared of clowns, Morton T. Smiley was scared of would-be-attackers. At even the faintest unwanted jiggle of a lock, he would not hesitate to hide in a kitchen cabinet with fingers crossed masked intruders wouldn't be scavenging for cookware.
Even the feverishly laboring beavers stopped building their dams and let water pass unscathed by their mighty sticks
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