Violet Street
February 05, 2017 - 64 words
It’s evening. The sun falls behind the blocky cloned buildings, an old warrior, retreating. The remaining light saturates the city with Maxfield Parrish colors. Corroded old girders lay scattered on the concrete, the remnants of some failed colossus, the fragments of prosperity.
The light fades slowly, like a man held down in a shallow pool. Crumpled litter dances in endless circles. Nobody pays attention.