A red car, traveling south at 35 mph, reaches the intersection of 300 n and University Avenue at 9:05 pm. A small white pickup truck traveling north at approximately 25 mph takes a left turn at the intersection of 300 n and University Avenue at 9:05 pm.
A girl on a cell phone leaves her parents house at approximately 9:05 pm and walks slowly toward the intersection of 300 n and University Avenue. Halfway there, she turns back and re-enters her parents home.
Her sister is at the computer. She looks up from her typing and asks,
“Did you call 911?”
The girl answers,
“No.”
The sister, quite rudely says,
“Get off the damn phone and call 911.”
The girl complies.

Earlier that day…
It didn’t snow.

Today wasn’t what you would call, “productive”

With the advent of the television the typical American family is no longer under any obligation to interact with each other, society, or even their pets. The outcome is a rise in parakeet deaths and malnutrition in cats. There has, however, been shown a correlation between the parakeet deaths and the underfeeding of cats by their human companions…

Later that day…

There is a bird that lives in the back bedroom of my parents’ home. He sits in that cage, his feathers clipped, occasionally chirping. I can’t look at him. I pretend he’s not there. If I happen to think of him, my heart will sink. His feathers will never carry him to far away places…

Today things were not as peculiar as they have sometimes been…

A fragment of a sentence overheard in a crowded elevator;
“…and then the girl fell and caught her dress on a rose bush that…”
I watched them walk away, the girl staring at the boy with that wide-eyed anticipation girls have sometimes before they’ve fucked their boyfriend and the mystery disappears.
“How old do you think she is?”
Nick looked up from the book he was reading and sighed.
“You know, Anna, a minute ago they didn’t even exist to you and now I bet you’ve imagined them a whole life. And how does it all end? What tragic Jerry Springeresque bullshit drama have you written for these two?”
The elevator doors opened. I took Nicks hand and pulled him out into the warm evening. We walked silently along the dimly lit streets, a plastic shopping bag blew by and I watched its ghostly form drift down the sidewalk.
“Nick.”
What?”
I let go of his hand and pulled out a thin pink cigarette from the pocket of my jacket but I didn’t light it.
“Do you remember what it was like to be a child, I mean, do you really remember?”
“What the hell kind of question is that?”
I watched the cars stream by in a steady procession. I put the cigarette in my mouth and chewed on the butt. The soles of Nick’s combat boots slapped the pavement with a kind of sick thud. He was wearing his favorite CRASS t-shirt and a pair of faded black jeans. His spiky black hair always reminded me of Snoopy’s bird friend, Woodstock.

It seemed simple enough. Fill in the blanks.