Seagulls Shadows on Slantyrock

November is the month of remembrance. The quint of October, when warm days still seeped through, is gone. The landscape on the horizon is growing dark; the light from the sun seems to go dim wherever it goes.

Playing on the streets where the fiery leaves clung on under terraces of houses, coal smoke plumed up firmaments upon the skyline, illuminating the mysterious horizon beyond. At the top of Hampton Cove hill, nightfall began to settle with the ambient orange streetlights clicking light into a day now gone. I was alone with him for the first time in my life. The game was on, in light to dark. Manhunt was in play, and our other friends playing had cheated the streets.

At the top of Hampton Cove hill below the last lingering leaves on the trees. Lost with each other without purpose. We had lost the game of manhunt. This was the first time we were alone together, separated from our friends.

Awkward as we hung around. We loitered about, tired and worn out, in the futile pursuit. He spotted a Coke can on the road and went over. I felt very puzzled as he forced his foot in between the center of the can. After his foot was lodged in, he took the can and clink-clanked along the road. The sound was familiar to me before he had said it, 'I AM ROBO-COP.'

I burst out laughing, like never before, with a peer together. A friendship began.

© 2026 Austin Macauley Publishers (E-bog): 9781035881864

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E-bog: 2. januar 2026