Almost Empty
It's the dog days — and I'll take them. Uncrowded Metro, open roadways, Congress in recess, school out for summer. It's a lovely pause, one to savor.
Walking back to my car in the warm air, I passed through the tunnel, dark enough by 6:30 for the lights to be illuminated. From the neighborhood that backs up to Route 66 came the sound of children playing, the voice of summer. I smiled broadly at a stooped woman in a sari and she smiled and waved in return.
Everything seemed in harmony: the bushes and trees, the sky and land, the people and place.
The world seemed almost empty, and that was fine with me.
Walking back to my car in the warm air, I passed through the tunnel, dark enough by 6:30 for the lights to be illuminated. From the neighborhood that backs up to Route 66 came the sound of children playing, the voice of summer. I smiled broadly at a stooped woman in a sari and she smiled and waved in return.
Everything seemed in harmony: the bushes and trees, the sky and land, the people and place.
The world seemed almost empty, and that was fine with me.
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