Your Four Line Friday Prose prompt this week: the disappearing city.
In honor of the fog that swallowed Vancouver this morning - I could barely see the buildings two blocks away from my office window.
Reminder: four lines of prose only!
(Like I actually care if you break my "rules")
Tyson's first words were surprisingly clear, given his activities of the last three hours. Which, though he certainly wouldn't be able to tell you this, involved drinking his body weight in whiskey.
But as he stumbled down the street, looking back over his shoulder at the vanishing pavement that hounded his steps, there was one thing that he knew beyond any shadow of doubt.
"That's not right."