left hand
pedra silvo !
He made a list of things he needed to do. An efficient list with bullet points carefully arranged in order of priority. He meticulously planned out his entire day and got an early start; there was not a moment to waste.
As he walked by a little cafe on Linn Street the wind snatched the list away. The spring wind, redolent with the scent of eucalyptus and orange blossom, plucked the list right out of his hand, carried it down the street past a willowy woman wearing the first sundress of the season, a tall and willowy woman whose hair was still damp from her morning shower. The wind spiraled his painstakingly strict list, making it dance in the sunlight, in the warm and peppery light of the morning sun, and he could only watch as it disappeared.
He went into the little cafe on Linn Street, ordered a coffee, and sat by the window, where he watched the vernal world pass by as he waited in case the wind wanted to return the list.
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