North Richmond Street

North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when, after a daily seven-hour stretch of tedium, they finally let us loose. For the last hour us kids minded more the clock than the chalkboard. The yellow light of the sinking sun would warm our yawning faces, a signal to our brains to shut down; one old Mr Malone, droning on at the head of the class, was somehow insensate to.

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Cappuccino

“Medium cappuccino.”
The grinder released a small pile of grounds into the handle. Dan tamped the pile smooth, then jammed the handle into its socket. As the coffee trickled through he steamed the milk, tiny bubbles rising to froth. He poured a stream into the cup with the coffee and affixed a lid.
“Medium cappuccino!”  

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Skink

The lizard scrambled up the wall, toes seeking tiny ledges in the sandstone brick. At the top she basked briefly in warmth, bubbling up from the brick and beaming down from above. Her forked tongue flicked out. A pungent odor. Human. A shadow fell across her and she dove for cover in the greens beyond.

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