Convergence

Friday Fictioneers

Out on the streets, I know convergence of views holds no meaning.

A houseful of people scrambling for their own safety, fight suspicion, as they want to know where the other had been, and what is the likelihood of contamination.

A pandemic has only highlighted existing divergence and mutual distrust.

I scribble on a small piece of paper 

“I quit – all non-existent bonds and a structure which concealed disjointed surfaces.”

and step out to breathe deep and hard.

Maybe, I inhale the airborne monstrosity and find true worth in isolation.

Pine trees whisper a different story to the skies.

18 September 2020

100 Word Wednesday: 166