Is it odd that I blot those moments out of my memory, like a tobacco stain on linen, or a splash of mud on the welcome mat? You can fade the stain, but it never comes out. He falls, just like that. A simple moment, and I blot it with memories of chocolate and old conversation. He fell in the dirt. Surprised and clumsy. Or was it elegance? The lack of drama, a simple conclusion.


Author: Steven Baird

Writer, amateur photographer, ad compositor and chicken herder.

2 thoughts on “Blot”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s