The footfalls slice the pavement as she basks in February’s afternoon sun. Gaining speed, now, a renewed sense of urgency makes way into her mind; for what? She wonders. Mind split between two places, uncertainty takes prevalence over any preoccupation. One moment sure of the chase, the next staring up as the looming palm trees waver overhead. Time must not be wasted on such banalities, a voice seems to say. Another counters on the basis that nature deserves appreciation. Thinking this a virtue, its implied vice reveals he who takes for granted the wind that shakes the leaves, he who creates the antagonist we all run from. Humanity seeks refuge in blindness, in not knowing or wanting to know what will happen when the strides are reduced in number, when reality catches up to the unconsciously suspecting. The patter of quickened steps is drowned out as it blends to a melodic beat, mere white noise. Pushed to the reserves are all prior deliberations as focus shifts to the sensual: a damp leathery something brushes her outer ankle. The scraggly fur of he who is owned awakens the girl, dazed. Now, a return to the worldly distraction that is so commonly (and desperately) desired, for in the alternative lies needed stamina, strength, sweat; an unwelcome comparison to the happy dog pouncing about.
A Song About a Dog Named Raisin
Flash Fiction by Elle Dietz
Published in Summer 2017