The wind that runs away runs off to an island. It dries itself in the sun and slows down. It stays long enough to play clumsily with the sand.
"Built on Bones"
Cedric reached deep into his pocket to find the small jagged end of quartz he had found in the park on the road. He turned it over in his hand and admired, like he would've in his youth, the way that the stone glowed hot purple in the odd light of the evening. He scratched a nick of dirt from a groove on a flat side. He spit once and missed. He caught the rock with the second try and rubbed it clean.
Pulling out a cigarette, he stared ahead with the clean, white hunk hiding in his lowered palm.
He squeezed the rock, as the sun disappeared entirely.