It. (rasatabula) wrote in repose, @ 2017-01-25 20:40:00 |
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Entry tags: | *news, jack penhaligon |
[News]
[A short while after the bus from the Capital reaches Repose (perhaps an hour) and in mid-evening the window of the newspaper office over the bookstore is flung wide. Both of them in fact, one over the street-front and one over the side-alley where, if you remember the local news that was never truly reported, two people were shot by a man who was in fact, a dog. There is a current of music over frigid air, low to the outside world but clearly loud within.
There begins a snow-fall of detritus out of the windows. First sheaves of last week's news-run never distributed and by the handful (the ad supplement, it is to be noted is on much glossier paper and the print un-smeared) until they fan out like birds, then the week before's un-destroyed copies. And then, merrily a flood: books, papers, glasses, a lone tea-mug that slings out and smashes against the alley wall, a raft of power leads and plugs, a broken lamp and punctuated occasionally throughout the hours-long process, computer equipment dating probably to the early twenty-first century begins to come crashing down into the narrow space of the alley. Where it is admittedly less likely to kill someone.]