Contour

Foible woke with his face flat on a carriage window. Two seasons had passed; bloom ‘n’ fade. His vision was wrong. He could only see contours out there. Each time he blinked a different set of lines appeared: cultural, economic, emotional and more. He cycled through the options and stopped at financial. There, outside of the train, were lines tightly bunched and rucked around a few dark points. Other places stayed blank. Foible watched the lines squeeze together; fierce edges around peaks of wealth. He blinked it away then shut his eyes again.

Published in: on September 23, 2010 at 7:37 am  Leave a Comment