The Boxes
Summer rain was beautiful. Kevin stood still in his tracks, and let the umbrella fall from his hand. The umbrella flew away, snatched by the wind and propelled by the torrent of rain. It landed ten feet away, but Kevin didn’t notice. He worked all week with the efficiency of a mule and the loyalty of a dog. It was Friday, and it was time for him to go home for the weekend. He sat on the grass. He was having a splitting headache from all the thinking he had had to do all month. Although, he was very diligent at his work, he was like a working ant making one section of one tunnel over and over again because every time he finished it, the rain would come and destroy it again. It was a perpetual cycle of creation and destruction which made him question the basic foundations of life. In this state of mind, the cold grey clouds were like a kind nurse, and the raindrops were like cotton pads dabbing his bleeding wounds and cleaning off the grime from the joints of his body. But Ke...