Coyote

Coyote
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 The streetlights hung low. Narcissus on the edge of the pond. I drove. A coyote stood in the middle of the two lanes. I drove past. It didn’t move.

I slowed and turned back. I parked on the side and walked in darkness. It didn’t move.

“What are you doing out here?” I asked.

“I am caught between two paths,” the coyote said.

“That’s every moment.”

“Not for a coyote.”

“What do you plan to do?” I asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Headlights shot out over the road. I walked back. The car barely missed the coyote. It didn’t move.

jaz

About jake zawlacki

Jake is a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives in Olgii, Mongolia where he speaks Kazakh terribly, coaches basketball, teaches English, reads a lot, and writes a little.

Jake is a Peace Corps Volunteer who lives in Olgii, Mongolia where he speaks Kazakh terribly, coaches basketball, teaches English, reads a lot, and writes a little.

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