For example, previously on her short drive to work in the mornings she would look to one side and see the ambulance men parked in the drive-through eating their egg sandwiches. To the other side, she would look and see a group of school children all wearing unseasonably heavy coats with oversized fur-trimmed hoods. With the hoods pulled up the children looked like ecumenical bears, gathered together to consider questions of portent and consequence. Hoods down they look skinned, raw. Perhaps they were waiting for a bus? Every day she drove past too quickly and was concerned for their safety, then hers. A little further on, still looking around, she might see a hawk perched severely on the Baptist church steeple; a Giant Sale banner snapping loose of its eyelet and rippling on the wind; a waft of plastic flowers blown from the cemetery to the bustling gas station across the street; a woman in a pink skirt taking very long steps. Previously, when she went out at night, she would continue this behavior, looking at the bartender and the booths, at the people in the booths, the shadows behind the people, looking at the corners, back and forth from corner to corner until she was no longer sure which way she had come in.
What do You think about Mother Box And Other Tales?
