Midday. We took a walk through our suburb; it’s so quiet at this time of the year, so lush and green.
Soon the clouds moved in, we heard the thunder and smelt the rain coming closer; we turned and quickened our pace toward home.
I thought he was dead at first, and then I saw the bottle in his embrace and heard a faint, grunting snore.
We got home safely, in time to tie everything down against the storm that flooded the garden within a ten-minute downpour.
I wonder who he is.
I wonder what he once dreamed; when he was a little boy.