hush April 18, 2008

They sit around the paint spattered table, rolling cigarettes and picking morsels of browning fruit and salad from the wooden bowls which were full to the brim an hour ago.  Nobody speaks.  Some chew, others smoke or drink or any combination of the three.  The fragmented moon casts broken shadows across the patio, slanting negative images of discarded toys onto the grey slabs.

Angus takes a breath as if to speak but changes his mind. He picks a strand of tobacco from between his lips.