Thursday, December 07, 2006

End of Day of Thor

The kind of Thursday where I feel like I've been running an hour late since I woke up. An adequately domestic evening, preparing a turkey meatloaf and washing dishes while listening to an indifferent national broadcast of the Steelers-Browns' first half on a local AM radio station.

Walked up the Washington Boulevard sidewalk into a frigid, slowing headwind towards the gym. Past the 7-11, past the taqueria. Past the slowing cleanup effort surrounding a house along the way whose upper floor had apparently burned, acrid smell and many flashing lights. Jogging alongside the last two blocks of condos and the boutique toystore before I reached the gym. The condos, the toystore, the gym all new since I moved into my apartment, close to four years ago.

Another mind-clearing span of time on an elliptical machine, listening to "Summer of Love" by the B-52's through headphones and glancing at a soundless local news story about a fatal car wreck involving teenagers.

Wind chilling my fingers through my gloves on the walk back home. Sky clear, partial moon and the usual clutch of dim, tenacious stars that show in a city sky. The crowd in front of the burned house reduced to a few firemen and some young women in slightly too-light coats, arms crossed and shoulders hunched up.

It's said over and over again in writing to write what you know; tonight this is about all I have to go on.


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