Almost Empty

Fred, now free from the gripping hands of time and reason, grew tired. As he closed his eyes, he dreamed of calculated risks and integrity. He dreamed of out of control cars and oceans swallowing children.

He woke with a renewed sense of displeasure. He was aloof.

"I've seen the various tendencies around here. These people cannot be trusted."

A bird landed a few feet from Fred's enlarged ankles. "Lavender," the bird seemingly chirped. Suddenly, he remembered it was his mother's birthday. "Damn these shoes. And damn you, bird."

"Lavender."