It's fuzzy, almost, a haze fallen over the land like the early morning fog that ain't lifted yet, but it's hot enough and late enough that there shouldn't be no fog. He hears the clank of metal against metal and watches like a dream as Jack
(ain't Jack, can't be Jack, Jack's dead)
leaning over the hood on his car. He says something, something about helping, maybe, but Jack don't turn, Jack don't hear a thing.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2006-08-10 03:10 pm (UTC)(ain't Jack, can't be Jack, Jack's dead)
leaning over the hood on his car. He says something, something about helping, maybe, but Jack don't turn, Jack don't hear a thing.