The shopping trolley woke up, cold, tired and alone. How was it that the herd had moved on?
This field was unfamiliar. Cows trundled around, chewing the cud, chowing down on the dew sodden turf.
Dirty great clods of chlorophyll and earth recycled at a very slow rate. At least a few of the bovine brotherhood looked longingly at the neighboring expanse.
It DID look greener.
The trolley had a wonky wheel. It didn’t bother him too much, ALL trollies have at least one squeaker or a false turner. Or jammed bearings. Thing is, no matter how hard he tried, the trolley could not fathom why or how he ended up here. At this time, and in this place.
Last night had been calm enough. A few ‘aperos’ with his buddies had turned into ‘it’s still light out, come on, one more’ at last orders. They’d gone to the supermarket car park. Not the old one, but that new enormo-dome one. They’d donut-ed on the new asphalt.
One of them, a bad egg, had peed on the concourse. His child basket was down, never a good sign. It could be worse, he’d heard of trollies going bonkers and ending up in canals or along motorway sidings. Here was at least picturesque. Lovely view over the city at dawn.
Birdsong.
If it had to end here, with the rust and the loneliness, he was ok with it. There was a euro wedged in the lock socket, so he was complete.
The sun warmed his front basket. Old receipts fluttered and flapped.
The sky was unbroken blue.
Some of the cows started lying down...a storm was coming.
The trolley needed aspirin.
