Wyatt_M

The water in sinks drips. 

Drip.

Drip. 

Drip. 

Cars go by.

Snow and rain falls.

Seasons change.

But through it all, she is there. In the same spot, everyday, all day, the watcher is there.

Gym class. Sweaty, hormonal teenage boys running around attempting to showcase their masculinity and physical prowess to the girls, as if they cared.

Ben Green sits quietly behind his desk aboard the Roosevelt. He is enthralled deep in thought, but his mind shifts as he notices the streaks of blond, left to slowly fade away on his head.

Who am I
to say that you are wrong?
Who are you
to say that I am wrong?

Simple questions—
tough answers.