Carl filled the dry cavity of his mouth with fluffy sweet goodness. Before he could push the balance of biscuit past his lips, his left hand fell to the table while the support from his left leg gave way and portions of his torso went limp.…
Blessed to have no knowledge of the limited time he was operating within, Carl went about his Saturday with the confidence of many hundreds of Saturdays to come. He fought through the balancing act of navigating down narrow stairs with a shaky handrail.…
The downstairs thermostat is mounted near the main entryway and senses a whispering cold void seeping through the front door. Heat from a gas-fired forced-air system ignites with a high-pitched click multiple times throughout Carl’s rest. Deteriorated ductwork unevenly distributes this hot air throughout the old house, riddled with hidden leaks and plagued by too many dust barriers. Until the entryway thermostat’s demand is met, the upstairs roasts with dry air attacking Carl’s respiratory tract and disrupting his sleep.…
Carl’s left arm was pinned beneath his twisted torso and his legs came to rest awkwardly with his right foot entangled in the wooden stretchers of his fallen armchair. A faint pulse echoed the last pumping motion of his heart’s chambers, and then even that last imperceptible sign of life was gone.…
This is my path, Reseda to Long Beach. This is my time, 5:00am. Five days a week and sometimes six. I hit the on-ramp and blow past the sleepy people who refuse to accelerate and hate their jobs. They don’t even know why they’re up at this hour. I’m here to get to work. I love my job. I love my people. I cut my own path through this darkness.…
