ONE LAST DANCE by Lekha Nambiar
My crane tipped junk into the landfill. The stench of decomposing waste
filled the air.
The sky was dark, for a ‘bright’ summer day. It started to rain- I watched the
paint on my crane buckle and warp with each drop.
Then I saw him, a tall broad -shouldered man, walking through that
” Get out,” I screamed, ” it’s poisonous”
The nothingness in his eyes coalesced into painful bitterness. I watched in
horror as his clothes melted off him. His scarf was now a snake, coiled
around his neck.
Slowly, sadly, he began to dance.