27
May 15, 2017 - 123 words
Blue paint spilled on the road like a bereaved giant's last tear.
Canceled checks in the abandoned subway car seemed like dead leaves in a dead forest.
A spider under the rug is like a broken heart: always there.
Graffiti on the abandoned building is like a former friend in a forgotten dream.
Nothing is the same now that it was November.
The dice rolled out of the cup toward Veronica like a clicking chaotic catastrophe.
A child in trouble is like a sock found in the dryer: easily forgiven.
The fog plumed through gunshot holes in the car windows like the dusty ghosts of the people still inside.
She held her life in her own hands as if it were worth saving.