This whirling world overwhelms me nearly every single day… I’m sure I’m not the only one who always feels this way… An antidote to cure myself of the sickness we call sadness… Wallowing in the words I wrote in another fit of madness…
Here’s another tiny tale from the archives, plucked from the back of a very dark drawer, bloodshot eyes blinking as it struggles in the daylight…
UPON A PEDESTAL by Steven Holding.
Surely it was a sign, the way she picked the same spot every single lunchtime. If he could see her, then it stood to reason that she must have noticed him.
As always, he played it cool. Maintained his posture. Stealing sneaky glances as she thumbed another paperback, in awe of her intellect, dumbstruck by her beauty. Wishing he had what it took to spring into action, stroll on over, take a seat beside her and simply say HEY!
Inside, he knew it was all just a pipe dream; that his feelings would never be reciprocated. How could such perfection ever love a creature like him? The obvious difference in age, how he was set in his ways. The fact that he was incapable of shooing away the plump pigeon that perched upon his head. As she passed him by, a trail of white bird shit
trickled
down
one
bronze
cheek
like
a
tear.
Be excellent to each other.
End of transmission. Over and out.