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100 Short Stories in 100 Days: 1



Morning. Denver. I'm out of bed and shuffling into red crocs. Tanned feet are fading. It's OK. I love the Fall. I burst out the double doors of my apartment. My Subaru is parked on the street, tires about 2 inches from the curb. The bumper stickers are peeling off. It's been hard sun the last three months. This morning's light is healing.


I grab my japa bag and walk north. Lights down the street. I see them and I walk toward them anyway. I chant on my beads as I pass a cop standing up and forward like a bird. He's screaming at some bum. The man slides side to side, pants wretched. High. The cop starts screaming after he hears mumbling.


"WHAT? WHAT...? SAY IT! SAY IT! I got a fucking college degree."


I want to punch this guy. Hard.


But I walk on in the morning's healing light.

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