Mytwosentences 152

The terminally sick farm boy, who was no more than five, impatiently prattled from a smushed back seat beset with nacho chip crumbs and a warm helping of afternoon orange/yellow sunsplash.

Without mouthing a single word, which in most circles would be considered perfectly normal, he blearily windowed the continuous zip of painted white road slashes and loosely held a hopeful grip on moist and falling apart animal crackers.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads

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Mytwosentences 151

There is a comforting moment nestled within an impromptu visit, beyond quasi welcoming hugs and make up protecting pecky kisses, where thumping dj beats and conversational toe taps become glad-you-are-here high fives.

Amidst this disorienting array of rapidly moving light beams, an aloof curmudgeon from two houses up the street swayed and silently lip sang while sitting on matted grass beneath the colorful flash of an old sycamore tree.

(Photo: Edward Roads)

Written by Edward Roads