Ride Home

On the bus, his eyes faced the world separated from him by a pane of glass. On one street, he saw children playing in the street. Each one wore a little gas mask with their own personalized details. With fun colors and stickers, they were free to express themselves in more ways that one. The sight caused memory to brush his shoulder. He fondly remembered decorating his first mask. As a boy, he chose to make it look like the waves of an ocean he'd never touch. It was the equivalent to breathing the air, a deathwish in the making.