Spider's Dream #9 Significant Man

He stepped on a rat. It looked like it had spider legs. There was blood in the gutter.

Everyday strives for perfection. Nowhere did it exist. The sun strived for it, piercing between the buildings and dappling its light on the parks and river. The clouds and smog mostly disallowed this brief dalliance with beauty. The sun still showed in its unholy heated repugnance even then. Perfection lacked everywhere, a pattern was wanted for.

There was a burned out bus on the next corner. People perched around the stop. Hope still lingered that services would still return. A woman holding a basket looked worn down with the heat, wiping sweat of her brow with handkerchief, bags under eyes, and wobbling under the weight of her meager package. She must have been waiting for hours.