Life in a day

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iff near his brick house. The mornings were serene, unrushed, so he took his time, listening to the soft lapping of waves

t the greenest, fattest leaf and fasten it to the end of his fishing pole as bait. He had crafted the fishing pole fr

the line drift far away from his perch, rising the smooth current. And then he'd wait. At high noon

al vapor. Always of a blue color, but never the same shade; peacock to turquoise to navy. Cool to the touch, slightly rough, covered with flecks of salt from the ocean. He would cup his hands a

ring waves behind him. Once home, he would unload the jars, taking a leather satchel from his desk drawer. Inside the satchel he'd take plastic ber

n his woven, netted hammock. On weekends, he'd open his shop to the townsfolk, who would rush inside waving paper bills in the

less than four feet tall, with combed blonde hair, tight pink shoes, and unnerving blue eyes. She walked around the store, bobbin

flew out of her mouth and bounced across the room in rings, shattering the jar

th their newfound liberty, eventually coalescing around the girl. The spun around, faster and faster, becoming a red -- no, blue, they had changed ag