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Weekly Contest #350
TW: Themes of death and loss I haven’t even reached the middle of Maple Street yet when I spot him leaning against the tilted stop sign, as if he had stood there longer than the sign itself has existed. He is translucent in the setting sun, as if the air had turned into glass. But if it were only the play of sunlight, I should know better. He seems to be around my age or possibly slightly older. He is tall in the sense that makes me realize how small I am in comparison. The boy has broad shoulders and stands upright in a manner that reminds ...
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