I'd never seen this one printed until a few days ago. I hadn't been sure of how it would turn out but I stared at it a while and it became something I needed. It's got abandonment in it, but a willingness too. It's frighteningly exposed. It stands on that outcropping of rock and it stares at the sea all day long, its glass shattered, dark eyes always open. The wind never stops blowing out there. Every standing thing grips to granite with calloused fingertips.
I peered in through the doorway and saw boxes of nails, old newspapers, frayed ropes, a shelf with an old case of Pepsi on it. I wondered how someone could just walk away and never grab the Pepsi. I wondered about the day the last shingle gets peeled back by a storm and the whole thing slides into the sea, about how on that day, the sea will take the Pepsi away. I wonder where it will end up, and who meant to drink it.