Friday, February 18, 2011

Star Chasm

Under a starry sky, a tired man waits at a bus stop and lets out a slew of dehydrated coughs. Down the bench from him sits another patron of public pickup and passaging. The patron's face was greasy from a hard day's labor, his blue hat sat atop his light brown ponytail masculinely, and a cigarette passed from hand-to-hand-to-mouth.

"Do you have allergies." He says with a light and clear voice that stung the man's ears.

The man answers irkingly, no.

"Are you just sick, with the cold, or something," he tries again.

The man answers annoyingly, no, just a pinch in his throat, to the patron.

"I've been sneezing like crazy lately. Just achoo, achoo, all the time y'know. Well not right now, now I'm not doing it, but yesterday it was crazy." He lurched forward in demonstration but the man slouched into the uncomfortable metal bus bench in anxiety.

"I was digging around in the dirt yesterday too so that might be why."

The man looked over with an apologetic face, still resting on the bench. 'When I first saw you I thought you would be completely nonsensical but now I realize I was cosmically wrong.'

"Really?" The man asked.

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