NEW FICTION:

So he said: "Look at me, I'm a hit and run dressed as a lamb. Literally, I am a drive-thru dressed as a fucking lamb of god!" He swayed purposely and fuel-induced, in the road - in the middle of the road between non-existent traffic. His shirt was open, flowing out behind him through a slow motion breeze. His open hands caressed the air he breathed, the air he danced between. His feet - tied to the tarmac, switched from a twisted self-fandango, to a morose tango-for-one. He was a moment that no one needed to share, that no one ever could.