Guess What It Is

by Lilian Welwood


Left, right, left, right, left, right. As the steel hot box on wheels sat still in the

aggressive bright rays, the bounce and sway she got from the drive settles out as time

passes. But soon her bare feet and the small section of grass beneath them start to warm

and stick to the leather underneath. Her fingers meld together and mix with the green grass

from her waist, soon to be just like taffy on a dashboard.