And it's damn cold.
The auctioneer across the street is still clinging to conciousness, I hear his amplified voice reverberating through the walls of the old mill across the street where he is no doubt also feeling very cold.
Here in this little town you've never heard of, things are mostly quiet. A generator is humming and grinding steadily to give them light, and my vending machine mocha is almost too hot for me still.
Nice, just now as I type this I heard Mr. Taylor thank his remaining audience. That means shortly they will wander out into the frigid night, drive back to their favored sleeping nooks, and the rest of this night shift will be still and calm.
- ▼ September (8)