Flash fiction: "My Hometown"

This little thought has been in a notebook for far too long. I got up to pen something, and it ended up a Fiction in 58.

My Hometown

Streetlight tints the snow that falls as I walk the streets of my hometown.
We’d joke, before we all left, that the sidewalks got rolled up at night. Not so much rolled up, just deserted.
Too cold to be out anyway.
The air smells of smoked ham, must be Thursday.
Tuesdays, it smells like shit.
A metaphor there.

1 comments:

gel said...

Shudder, it doesn't sound like "home" in any traditional comfy sense, but this sure awakens my senses
(scurries away on Tuesdays)...