Mark took tame, graceful steps, clutching his briefcase and walking stick. Smoke fumed from traveling cars, as Mark inhaled the morass of odors that enveloped his olfactory senses. Glossy, terse clicks of shoes thudding against concrete reverberated in Mark's mind, aiding his auditory perception. Before he exhaled, a brief, lucid taste of wet cement plodded through his mouth. Each stride Mark took, the ground compressed the soles of his shoes, assimilating with the other senses to form Mark's so-called "vision." Of course, that was the issue. Mark was blind.
"What a strange man," a creaky, fragile feminine voice softly murmured abreast Mark's rear.
"'Chemical spray?'" a young masculine voice vocalized.
Mark knew people found him strange; however, the previous inquiry had perplexed him. He ceased his trajectory and halted. Something was off.
SQUISH
Mark's gloves were rubber. Slipping them off, he felt himself, noticing the slick, thin material that made up his clothes. The lower he felt around, the more he came to an embarrassing realization. What Mark assumed was a scuba mask (because I realize now that this story makes no real sense), was in actuality a chemical respirator. The fine, tough, fabric that pressed against his body was not in fact a business suit, but a hazmat suit. Mark frantically fumbled with what he initially concluded was a briefcase and his walking stick, until a stranger came into his auditory view.
"Is that a chemical spray?" a growly voice investigated bemusedly.
"Unfortunately, yes."
THE END
YOU ARE READING
A Collection of Short Stories
RandomThis is merely a collection of short stories I wrote over the years.
