03.10.09 – True Story.

I remember once, long ago, I saw a face at the window.
It was a bright crisp day, and the sun had been shinning in great big streams through the glass. I was watching, entranced, as the light played across the carpet.
All at once, however, the light disappeared. Blinking at the loss of warmth and form I’d been admiring I stared up at the window in offence.
The glare I was wearing turned to horror as I processed what I was seeing;
Bigfoot stood out there, looking in on me, a great gaudy fedora perched on his head with a large orange feather sticking out of its top.

I remember once, long ago, I saw a face at the window.

It was a bright crisp day, and the sun was shinning in great big streams through the glass. I was watching, entranced, as the light played across the carpet.

All at once, however, the light disappeared. Blinking at the loss of warmth and form I’d been admiring I stared up at the window in offence.

The glare I was wearing turned to horror as I processed what I was seeing;

Bigfoot stood out there, looking in on me, a great gaudy fedora perched on his head with a large orange feather sticking out of its top.

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