D e a t h

A cold and empty day and a cold and hazy road or maybe it was smoke from the giant RoboTech spacecraft office building that looked ready to blast off into the ionosphere. He wandered among the confusing diagonals of downtown.

A cold and full can of soda announced its arrival with a thud to the vending machine.

He will never read the news again. He will only consume a diet of vending machine soda culture or science fiction from now on, allowing the regression to become permanent.

Or change? He needs to abandon the cold and empty dream of video editing. He needs to find a new way to live.

Best case scenario? He works for himself; is his own boss. Writing himself up for smoking too much weed so he can continue to stare at a monitor. I want to work in a bakery. I want to wake up early and clear trees for the Department. I have to figure something else out.

He is no longer sure. The family horror of it is like a flower. Does the Chinese New Year mean anything at all?

He feels the cold unraveling of something more than his myopic heart.

P o t a h - t o e . . .