Sweeping

My companions were only seeking the feeling of speed, of a fast foot on loose material. I was looking for something left over, and found it in a spot where if I framed the scene just right, I could imagine a simple life.

From the ocean, the wind came, unblocked, creating shapes that would be foreign in the same species just 500 feet away.

As I started the engine, I sliced my big toe open to bleed out onto the contaminated sand. It’s just as well, because I still couldn’t distinguish the brake from the gas.