Miranda Gusmano

Girl with the Golden Glow

The railcar stripped of internal luxuries floated above polished ground. The occupants clung to a bubble of color produced by glow receivers. Without glow, I looked toward the forest which ruptured the monotony of uniformed metallic architecture within the city. My internal monologue scripted a tale of colors blooming naturally. When I returned home, I lingered over blank paper thirsty for the flowing ink of my story. Instead, I abated into replicated steps to a plate of monochrome sustenance. A wide expanse of glow swallowed my motionless grandfather along with various copies of original glow items from the Goldens.