The sky was darkened everywhere by rain clouds except for one strip that was illuminated by the sun. The rain was steady. This was my paradise. I could finally walk the city streets. They were desolate. There was not a single living thing in my path. It was like something out of a post-apocalyptic movie and it was heavenly.
The one beam of sun was aggravating. It reminded me of paintings I had seen in museums with fat people in Grecian garbs looking at one fat person that with extended hand had a ray of light that was pushing through clouds touching the fingertips. It was far too Godly for me though I suppose appropriate as it was a Sunday.
The rain was as warm as the air. Although it was early November in New England it felt like it was mid-August. The humidity and the precipitation were a perfect combination.
As I continued on my path to nowhere I noticed the garbage on the streets. It looked like the roads had a hangover from too much partying on the night before. Pizza boxes, fast food containers and the crown jewel, a used condom flopped on the street as if the person must’ve fucked a girl on the side of the road, opened his car window and just plopped his used prophylactic on the ground.
It was so jarring. I imagined that if I was some hipster artist I would attempt to incorporate this into some sort of show. I could imagine a person of that ilk taking a picture of the condom every day as it slowly deteriorated and showing his final photos in some gallery in Brooklyn. However, I’m not that person, thankfully. I’m the person that wants to know the backstory to how the condom got there and would love to find the person who discarded it in such a manner and shove it up his asshole. I’m that person, spiteful and full of anger.
The sun was starting to overtake the clouds. It was like a bad Biblical metaphor. Well, it was a Sunday.