Dreamers on the Rise

. . .coming soon . . .

The fluorescent light above our booth flickered as if in response to the fly’s battering.  There was a crackling and buzzing emanating from it in a steady, lethargic pulse.  A murk of smoke, an attempted replication of L.A. smog, hung in the air above our table.  I watched as one of the flies landed in the tangle of David’s locks.  He remained completely unaware of the fly’s march through the dog-trot halls of his hair.