Shiyang Su A Bad Day A bad day starts with an extra cloud howling in the sky several drops of lemonade on your favorite t-shirt & tea cup, what’s more-your glasses, broken like diamonds under the sun, reflecting rainbows. Now you lean against the breakfast table pondering at this misty world. You find a thread of hair in your coffee, balancing toes in Subway labyrinths; on your left hook, a bag of necessities with spoiled scent. You think the world is a cheesecake, where people spin relentlessly in a circle of fluffy cream being scooped by a hole of emptiness and sweat stains; that’s when you could distinguish a good day from a bad one --on a bad day there’s no destination only a million shadows crawl on the sidewalk, heading nowhere.
40
