I was taking a walk the other day, and this brief vignette is basically just what I noticed about my environment. I didn't want it to have much structure (or even have a plot), so that's why I wrote it really simply.
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There. That’s the feeling. No real surge of excitement, no sudden uproar of anger. I am just there. Just apart of the scenery, apart of the independence. A man walks alongside of the road. His pet dog trails along behind him, it’s tongue dangling gleefully from it’s mouth. I hear the crunch of my footsteps against the fallen tree leaves, I listen to the teasing taunt of a mocking bird’s call. The light has faded, yet the sun hangs low in the horizon. It’s patient, it’s waiting, for the cycle to begin once again in the new morning. I watch a man as he crouches in front of a broken sprinkler in his yard. His fingers search in the darkness of the toolbox for an extra wrench. One of my childhood friends passes by. I give him a friendly wave, a smile, and continue trudging up the sidewalk. The pavement is warm beneath my feet. I can feel it’s soft aroma through the thin soles of my shoes. A bird caws urgently, and a car speeds up the drive. My hands swing back and forth, back and forth by my sides. I breathe in, I breathe out. I can see our house from here; just up the road. I increase the speed of my pace while passing an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand.
The stop sign. I don’t look both ways, I run straight ahead. I jump right into the danger, into the unknown. With the pleasure of a newfound rebel, I skip the rest of the way home.
