Man with butterfly receives a visitor ~ N C Wyeth
The beating of great wings announces his arrival but does not interrupt the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses at the conference of beings.
“Name?” the girl at reception, obviously too young to know better, looks up when no response is forthcoming, “Name?”
Her colleague, older, perhaps wiser to the history of the fall, hands him his iD Holo, which classifies him as ‘Delegate’ and smiles an apology.
His expression remains unchanged.
He moves off into the throng of beings, swallowed by the crowd. A single pale grey feather arabesques in his wake to land on the reception table where, unnoticed, it dissolves, leaving nothing but a faint oily patch on the polished wood.
“Name?” the girl at reception, obviously too young to know better, looks up when no response is forthcoming, “Name?”
Her colleague, older, perhaps wiser to the history of the fall, hands him his iD Holo, which classifies him as ‘Delegate’ and smiles an apology.
His expression remains unchanged.
He moves off into the throng of beings, swallowed by the crowd. A single pale grey feather arabesques in his wake to land on the reception table where, unnoticed, it dissolves, leaving nothing but a faint oily patch on the polished wood.
Tales for an attention deficit world
1 comment:
to be honest, I don't give a fuck
Post a Comment