A man was dressed in black. His overcoat weighed heavily along his shoulders. His fedora, the crown pinched tight, was pulled low against his brow. He slipped into darkness. Alone, he felt a cold wind and was certain what he wore hid him from the night.
There was another man. He too was dressed in black and slipped into darkness, alone against the night. With their fedoras pulled low they walked in near blindness and bumped into each other.
"Are...aren't you Square Corner? one man asked.
Both men walked quickly away. No words were to have been said. The rule had been broken. The game was over. One man felt free, the other sad. The overcoat that weighed heavily on his shoulders was no good, the loser thought.
LIFE OF A POET - CHRISSA SANDLIN
1 day ago