People assumed he had something to say. He just stood there looking expectant. The sky grumbled dissent with a passive-aggressive overcast pall. It spat a few plips on the pavement, but not enough to darken its color or change the air’s smell.
And still he stood. Microphone at chin, elbow crooked meekly, eyebrows raised in helplessness. More and more busy commuters gathered. If he were actually speaking, no one could have cared, but this was strange: a mute with a megaphone?
He coughed a little. People waited. He burst into tears and the sky opened up.
Everyone got wet.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
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This is really really cool.
ReplyDeleteWow I really like where that went.
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