Monday, August 4, 2014

Moment # 28

Waves were touching the toes, heading back to meet others in the horizon. The wind and the sand, idle moments, the taste of salted peanuts, and him. They remained same after all these years. Counting the waves unconsciously, his mind trailed back to the time when his footprints on the sand were not lonely. “Rotten peanuts!” He spewed it out-- gargled immediately. He needed to get rid of the aftertaste.
Aftertaste

Posted by at
Labels: , , , , , , , ,

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)