Twenty Eight

There are French windows at work, overlooking a very busy road.

Day in-day out, people commute along our lines of sight, rarely straying into our visions.
During torrential downpours, they huddle at the unofficial smokers’ lounge.

Today, a morgue van passed.

And then,
there are French windows along a very busy road, overlooking an office.

1 thought on “Twenty Eight”

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