Wednesday, September 12, 2007


He touched his lower lip with two fingers, gently running them over the cracked surface. Vaseline was a luxury, time and taste did not permit him. He tugged at his black overcoat, so that the edge caught some of the muddy snow off the road and slowly soaked the tough fabric. Hugging his chest tighter than usual, he dug his fists deep into his armpits. A red dot bobbing along streets lined with flickering Christmas lights, he was a pathetic sight to midnight revelers. The snow was fresh, refusing to melt till dawn conquered its white arrogance.

A price arrogance pays, for nature disagrees with the values of the selfish. He stopped and bent down. Hastily, he touched the white quilt of snow. His fingers felt raw under the scathing ice. He smiled with the joy of a young boy. A faint dimple encircled his twisted smile. The sky was turning blue with hues of red stretching across his eyes.