the glass of the front door of the apartment complex is clear. slightly hazy. tinted transparent. seeing through it, using it to look through. from the inside. the stairs, leading down, in a series of descent. i didn't believe in anything, the concrete of it, hard, objective. running down in a straight line from the entrance, lined by shrubs, to the steps leading down to the sidewalk. i stood watching people pass on the sidewalk unaware of me. i thought, maybe. the sound of voices reaching through the paneling of glass. i couldn't touch them or be touched.
I write short stories. This is my blog. I'm going to write whatever.