Stopping was my first reaction, searching for some clarity
was the second. Two men were severely shivering with shock
and humiliation- but no one was formally hurt.
The car accident was overlooked and actions were taken to
repare the damage as quickly as possible. Heat seemed to
pour through the windows, and I made an effort to wait still
until everything would fall back into place. Crying screams
of a small infant child could be heard from afar, I covered
my ears to block the constant ringing.
A tardy bliss commenced the scene, as an emergency water
hydrant burst open from the crash, substanced water ran deep
to terrorize the block. Green from filth, people shut
themselves away in fear of contamination.
Evaporation stuck permanently to all windows in view and
blurred the focus, causing a hault. A slow motion picture
rolled in my head, and I wanted so badly to lower the volume
and fast forward- to rid myself of anymore defeaning sounds,
tenderly pealing me in ache and neglecting me exposed.
Now the procedure of regulations looked like a bomb site
raped of usefulness and pride.
An old woman squeezed herself into a stuffed family car to
help calm the diabolic baby, who was now begginning to drain
my ability to be indifferent. It empowered over my blank
stare, spoiling a very useful technic that took years of
planning.
I was trapped in memory lane for hours to come, around me
all the other prisoners. Impatient cars and trucks had to
queue and expirience the unstoppable traffic. On my right
was an obscure couple, sharing their very twisted version of
"happily ever after".
The man was rigorous and distantly changing, wearing
sunglasses and naturally declaring his machinised intimacy.
The virginal girl beside him was disguised in a tight, short
skirt. He had his arm around her, his fingers running down
her hair, and the routine vice was propelled. One flesh,
baby, honey, sugar.
Suspended in space, her lips were chapped, and she blamed
the wheather.
I was mesmerized already, knowing that devianted formula all
too well. Being impractical and misplacing my own masochism
frightened in loss of orientation. I couldn't run, being the
evidence of my past, a mere personification of compensation.
I was the one who saw through swollen eyes. By then, my
headache conquered, bones and all.
There was no doubt in my mind that the route wouldn't melt
of its traffical hazard soon, other vehicle drivers have
accepted the hopeless situation. Actually, people have
started to gather by their common missery and race for
warmth, to extract themselves from the burning rays.
An old man of genetic serenity didn't loose his stagnation-
feet firmly on the ground, tracing his last steps to notice
the vibrant waves. His narrowed eyes recepted nobility while
a pointed nose drawing closer to the scent of burning tires.
The attractional limp was cynical, but who was I to frame
him without proof. Passively, he muttered a few words and
waited for a peaceful float on the miasma nearby.
Zooming to conscienceness, I sank back on my cair, unable to
swallow my own saliva. Desperate for sunglasses to cover my
fall, I jerkingly disillutioned myself for some sort of a
grip to protect me. The flaming rays radiated, scarred and
made my eyes water.