There was a stack of paper. Bound. No lines. 3 ring holes punched on the left margin. Somehow this booklet or notebook or whatever it was had made it out into the street. The pages seemed crisp and clean in the wind.
Grand is a three lane, one way street. In northeast it loses its way a bit, but in southeast, Grand avenue runs parallel with south bound Martin Luther King Blvd. The paper was flappin around...layin about half way between the middle and right hand lanes. As I passed, i could see that most of the pages were blank. The holes punched in the pages seemed like little spy holes, each searchin for that half inch of world they could see.
I drove on. Bored by myself and driving a boring way home to do nothing, I just stopped concentrating on the road as I hit a corner. I jerked the wheel and the car lurched around the bend. I saw quick flashes of holes punched in paper framing out the snaking kink in the road.
I couldn't see what was written or printed on the paper, but I wanted to.
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