Book of poems
“Clink, clink.”
The sound of a coin bouncing off the fountain rim and clattering to the street awoke him. Sunlight glinted off gleaming high-rise towers and caused him to wince at the glare, pulling back behind a mat of dark, curly hair. Buses clattered by, cars whooshed past, a siren blared in the distance. Crowds were already ebbing and flowing over the streets and around the buildings. Rhythmic, unstoppable.
