I watch a spider amble across the platform; the emblem on his abdomen, savage as a gangster’s tattoo. He means no harm in passing and yet the enormity of his imposition fractures my nerves. If I held him he would fill my palm, his colors are extraordinary, his genus unknown. There’s a certain freedom in instinct, a freedom that civilization does not permit. I envy his resolve, his nonchalance, the fashionable top hat, which suggests his phantasmagorical nature. From birth my instincts have been a point of contention and if a glass I would have sweated every moment. The condensation of two irreconcilable extremes, that is who I am in summary.
I turn my attention to a retinue of argyle-socked swindlers idling inside a coffee shop. Manners over morals, the world’s manifesto. They speak furtively behind white mugs, their huburistic tongues molting like limestone. Their lockers no doubt have identical bags and jackets, mine has a box of old journals crippled with years of heavily upholstered monologues. My secrets are like bronze statues, shiftless, insurmountable.
I glance at my watch, the numbers confirm my impatience. I take several pointless trips around the terminal just to stretch my legs. I purchase a book on the return journey but someone has taken my seat. I take the seat beside her and peel back the cover slowly as if a pair of silk stockings. The first line reads “I died as I lived, alone.” I close the book there isn’t much more to be said I suppose. I glance at my watch again, the skin of my wrist is raw and sticky. The contents of my veins have soaked the sleeve, the vertical line is proof of conviction. The woman beside me is blue and dripping wet. She is negligibly dressed, a predicament of which she is self-consciously aware. She covers her pert nipples with folded arms and scowls in my direction.
I combined the two prompts, the sentences in bold are my 6 word sentences. My wordle words are: spider, platform, savage, condensation, argyle, hubris, locker, cripple, upholstery, bronze