plastic taxi path #

For the 216th time, he said he would quit drinking soda after this last Coke.

Sitting in the sun, away from everyone who had done him harm in the past, he quietly listened to those who roamed by. He felt at peace in the moment, hoping it would last, but knowing the reprieve would soon come to an end. He closed his eyes, the sun beating down on face and he smiled. He smiled for the first time in as long as he could remember.

The paper was blank. It shouldn’t have been. There should have been writing on the paper, at least a paragraph if not more. The fact that the writing wasn’t there was frustrating. Actually, it was even more than frustrating. It was downright distressing.