The new home owner turned and extended his hand, but was only greeted with the tattered, unright air (of a god forsaken place) blowing in it’s own rhythm over an unfamiliar space.
The yet unmet next door neighbor had suddenly become nothing more than a crusty off-white handkerchief sitting without purpose on Preston Tapley’s thirsty front lawn.
(Continued from Mytwosentences 161)
(Photo: Edward Roads)
Written by Edward Roads