Friday, September 15, 2006

SCENE D

The windowpane is grimy in the back room. He looks out, and sees nothing but a dusty greasy reflection of himself. He pulls his sleeve over his hand and wipes a circle away. The rain spits against the glass, and dribbles down.
He sees a woman with a red umbrella but the sideways spitting still gets her. He’s tempted to sing show tunes to her, but refrains himself. Instead, he hums them slowly to himself like a dirge.
He cracks open the window with great effort, and fog collects at the opening. He makes a smiley face (with no nose) with his left pinky. He admires it, and then smudges it out. He is sure that nothing good can come of smiley faces.

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