Saturday, March 17, 2012

Spring or Something Like It

While I was running, my eyes landed on gold letters embossed on a black mailbox. The picture plane jutting in time with my stride made them read like Gatsby. I ran to the end of the block and did a three sixty, slowing to run in place when leveling with the mailbox. Gazety, it read. Russian for newspapers. It's so funny how our worlds are intertwined.

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