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.