One moment of many.

A small movement amongst the oxygen of a small desert town. The population under a collective wave of molecules slowly distorted while a couple flys together under the sheets to the sound of a song on the radio. The fabric caught in the movement of their bodies and the air. A hallow and quiet good bye before the ends of a world.

Before.

A metal machine leaving a station. The churning of an impossibly effective clock as it battles its way back to keeping time. A train pulling from

Again.

He learned the motions of a man who others knew could be their own men. That the attempts to be some one else made them less than real. they smiled their part as real.

Gas station artist

He wondered if time held a place for him that there was an empty casket with his name prepared. His arms hung off the couch as he stared at the pieces of art on the wall. There would be no masterpiece found within the four walls of his hotel room and no inspiration. He dipped into periods of his past looking for answers to the questions that intoxicated him. The sun was rising uncomfortably and his head pounded.

Jalopy