[100 days of 100 words] 68/100 Marathon

It’s pretty thankless, what I do. It’s certainly not one of the glamour sports, like baseball or figure skating. Nor one of the outlander sports, like Parkour or snowboarding.

No, I am a dedicant to breath, to the coiled springs of my calves, to metronomically swinging arms and one foot after the other. Right foot, left foot, over and over and over again until the turbine of my core, the spinning wheels of my limbs, like the Road Runner’s in some cartoon, slows down and stops me.

It is mile 25 when my foot catches a crack in the road.

[100 days of 100 words] 69/100 Death in Boston

The last sun glances off the top of the wedding cake building, and the Pru shines orange-pink against a dimming sky. The fire of autumn lights its windows and makes it a screaming beacon in the sharp wind. The sight is so astonishing that it stops me on Mass Ave, arrests me in my progress to the department of parking in Cambridge. From Central Square you can see all the way to Boston if you look south down that great artery, across the river and beyond.

A single gull rises far off, shadowed black. I don’t even see the bus.

[100 days of 100 words] 70/100

I hope I’m not writing over my own words in the dark. I want to get this out of here somehow, so maybe my mother can read it. They’re making us be quiet and it’s dark here but they didn’t take away my pen and paper. I think because I hid the pen in my shoe. It’s a little pen.

I love you, Mom. If you get this, please try and find me. It’s very boring here, and dark, and they haven’t fed us yet. I’m not sure how long it’s been.

Please don’t worry. They haven’t hurt us, Mom.

[100 days of 100 words] 71/100 Making conversation

“You seem very nice.”

“Thank you.”

“I like, uh. I like meeting nice people.”

“I…well, sure.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Uh…”

“I – ha! – I mean, I won’t think it means anything, or anything. You know?”

“No, I...of course not.”

“Let me buy you a drink. I have this project I want to tell you about.”

“Proj...I, look, I really should get back to my friends.”

“But it’s a great idea! Listen – I’ve nearly perfected my self-cleaning semi-automatic rifle.”

“...”

“Also, I’ve got this great pet centipede.”

“Uh – I gotta go.”

“Huh. You’re not really that interesting, are you?”