| The pavement was pristine, resting on a bed of
crushed gravel. Black perfection so slick and pitch night rain pooled and shone on it like beaded mercury. The engineers and road builders liked it this way. Neat, tidy, sterile. They had wiped their hands and patted each others’ backs in satisfaction of a job well done. This pavement would last a long time. |
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| ©2008 Mary Warner |