Thursday August 16, 2018
What Happened During The Ice Storm
It was bad. The night was over. The buns were on the table. He thought they had cooled off by now but alas. They had not. The puffs of steam shot out and punctured his eyes. It was bad. It was really bad. He wanted a pork bun. He wanted to enjoy it. He was not patient. He laughed too loud. He didn’t know who he was yet. His eyes were on fire. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t really see. He couldn’t listen to his own laugh too loud at 5am. The puffs of steam shot out of the bun and into his eyes because he was hungry. He was greedy. He was obsessed with his own hands. He never said thank you to his mother. He never once held the door for somebody just passing through.