Nulla dies sine linea. Four sentences every day. About whatever happened that day. Most of it's even true. Written by Scott Lee Williams
Sunday, November 10, 2013
At three in the afternoon, the sky is so dark it seems close to dusk. "Flinty," I say to Katie as we're walking down Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn, referring to the color of the clouds, the smell of the air, the shade of the light.
"What?" she says, then, nodding, "Oh." A few icy pinpricks of water hit my lips and cheek.