I felt irrational quickly moving my way up and across the golf course green to the train tracks that hold only early hour locomotive. Past weeks of railroad walking had given memory to the muscles in my legs, allowing me to walk without deliberation of where to place each foot on the wooden planks. The steps I took seemed quick paced, but my surroundings loitered. My thoughts were apprehensive about the night before and about the house that I was walking to. A key on a ring jingled in the back pocket of my shorts and it was very warm out.
Reaching the black tar street didn’t ease any tension. The cars that passed me left my eyes paranoid. Sweat crept out from the corners of my face where the hair ends at the forehead. I soon noticed the church across the road was almost directly parallel to me. I decided to cross over to it for the house I was heading to was around 500 feet past the wooden cross. Five minutes later the right turn for the house appeared.
Sweat was now gathering on the back of my neck. A few yards ahead I noticed a boy, or a man, mowing the grass. I recognized him, average height, olive skin, dark hair, an old next door neighbor. Wanting to keep anonymous, I kept my head down with my hair covering my profile, occasionally glancing to the opposite direction of the ex bystander. Once I was out of sight, I hurried to the door of the house. I couldn’t cry, so I smiled and almost welcomed the unknown furniture placed upon my old slab of concrete, below my old window. It was hardly lingering. I then grabbed the package and walked home.
1 comment:
Golf course giving way to train tracks; sounds like where I live, if followed by old farm equipment tucked in the edge of woods.
I liked reading this post.
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