At least one old memento he couldn’t shake on departure was his old, old, Jinx skateboard. Looking at it on one of those days dedicated to packing, he couldn’t bare the thought of maybe never skateboarding again. Oh, he’d never be any good, but coasting in the thin Fall air; casually, carefree, maybe with his hands in his pockets—it was too much to let go of though he could not foresee a time or opportunity.

Now, seated in his armchair beneath the orb of yellow from his lamps, the space beyond called him. Here was the moment, the opportunity. Tinted indigo by the lights from the city, the darkness was no negative space, unfortunate for boundaries, but a place to play, a space to go.

Read the whole thread: A Field Guide to the Socially Inept

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