2 Minutes. Go!

The signs went up in the dead of night. No one saw who posted them. They were just there, and word spread fast. 

There's another sign! 

It was whispered fiercely between hedgerows. The community already felt loss, and now there was another sign. 

No one would tell anyone what it said, just that it was there.

New sign in the center. You gotta read it. Have you read it?

I had to finish my chores, but then I ran as fast as I could. There was already a large mourning group. Mothers were tearing their hair out. I had lived these past weeks, and I thought I knew what terror was. You could have never prepared me for what was on that sign, though. 

I made it home just as the curfew horn blew.

2 Minutes. Go!

There's frost on the memory. It flashes cold, but bright. It finds a way to get inside of you. You take the memory out and inspect it every once in a while...see how the years have been treating it. See if you can still make it bounce off the wall. 

Memories can be smooth or they can have sharp edges. They can be a worry stone, or they can cut you to the bone. Memory is something you shouldn't fuck with. Memory is your lifeline. Your shield against the world. 

We try to categorize memories into good and bad, but they can switch categories. Memory is fickle. Memory has seasons. 

The sun will warm you. The sun will melt the cold. The sun won't erase the memory, but it is a momentary solace. 

So, bask in it.

2 Minutes. Go!

The whistling sound you hear is the other shoe dropping...it just takes a while. Something about wind resistance or inertia. Some seventh grade science thing. Point is, you know it's coming, and you can almost feel it. The slap of sneaker tread against your face.

Shoe aerodynamics aside, this is not altogether a crazy occurence...shoes are falling all the time. Sometimes they're little and don't make much of an impact. Sometimes they're combat boots, and the steel toes can kill you.

Still, you can't go around dodging shoes that might drop. You'd drive yourself crazy. You'd crimp your back up. It would be bad for your spine and posture. Your friends will find you odd.

Maybe I'll just walk on my hands. Catch those shoes on my feet where they belong. Or maybe the euthanasia shoe is coming, and I should just smile and wait. 

You never know. Maybe this time it will land on the other foot, and I'll get to watch.