Bryan pulled his collar in tight around his neck. The skin chafed a little, that new balsam wasn’t quite as good as the lingerie clad model said it would be.
The storm last night had rattled his bedroom windows as much as it had his teeth. There was a dank, not damp, smell in the air as he trudged toward the bus stop. The half light of the morning sun rising slowly gave the city an almost effervescent look.
Almost.
Bryan remembered the night before, patches, mind you, not all of it. Like a slideshow where the sequencing’s gone up the swanny.
He remembered the flashes of light and the low rumbles, the lull and the crescendo. This brought up images of halcyon days, being in his prime, strobes and shots.
The elements of the elemental.
Faces whizzed by in his mind and also on the bus he was supposed to catch, as the gust of the speeding vehicle stung his cheeks. ‘Shit,’ he said, to no one in particular, he was going to be late.
The same as it ever was.
