Friday, November 27, 2009

7: Donuts

He’s at the donut shop eating a piping hot donut dripping with cinnamon sugar and honey glaze. Pre-dawn, sipping coffee. He stares at the guy working at the counter, thinking, I know this guy, he looks so familiar. For weeks now. It’ll come to him, as the door’s bells clang, a cold wind slipping inside like a forlorn stranger.

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