A Time Warp Series

I went running one morning in the industrial area of West Town, as I’m known to do. Jogging past Fulton & Wood, aromas were enticing. During the few seconds it took me to pass the area, huffing and puffing east, my beer belly in the window reflection and my out-of-shape self attempting to wheeze by was the first thing I saw.

My gaze then leaked through the pane glass, locking eyes with the head brewer. My only thought during that telekinetic exchange: “this is all your fault”.