Wednesday Night
Fall Ride
Leah Scarpelli and I were riding bicycles down Woodland Rd. The autumn leaves crunched beneath our tires. The road was a blur. My bicycle was low to the ground, and I dragged my feet as we crossed Fifth Avenue.
Thursday Night
Spilled Milk
A little African boy asked me to carry a jug of milk to his house for him. I concentrated on not dropping the jug. The walk was long and hot as we passed through barren land and small villages. I kept staring at the yellow jug, and felt pleased that nothing happened. Just as we reached his mother in their house, the jug started to leak. A crack appeared on the side and milk spilled from my hands to the ground.
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