Leonard Mead was a pedestrian who wore sneakers with soft soles to diffuse any sound his footsteps made on the crumbling sidewalk while he soaked in moonlight and breathed in crisp air. The rest of Los Angeles watched TV shows inside their tomb-like homes, screens casting a greyish filter across their zombie faces.
The police found him anyway. After dismissing his claim to being a writer as “no profession,” he was hauled off to the loony bin—his house crackling like a warm fire in a black and white world.
What I want to know, Ray, is about Leonard’s lights. Are they still on since he went away?
This is so 2053!
ReplyDeleteRay would say YES!
ReplyDelete