I opened the door to a falling sun and a terrified lizard. The lizard froze for a beat, and then slid across the rustic stone tiling, a flurry of tiny green legs. The sun was uninterested and indifferent. I shot a look directly into that burning ball, it was the reason my back throbbed and looked like a damn tomato. It was also why the lizard was out on the rock, and why my toes felt nice burying themselves in the sand below me. The sun was a lot of things.
My feet are clean, not by choice, but because I realized feet could not get dirty here in Arroyo Grande, it's too nice of a place for dirty feet. The house is guarded by smooth rustic stone tiles that in two steps undo all the work put in to get the dirt on in the first place. A few horses mutter and pace out across the field next to a small guesthouse where a Mexican family lives and prunes trees or something. Derek's aunt told me their house is traditional for this area. One story something or other.
They do have a three-legged dog Annie with bright eyes and an energetic leap. The three-legged dog Annie hopped up to me just now to smell my kneecaps. I know that someone told me how she lost her leg but I forgot. I just figure a bear got to close to this traditional house one night and Annie gave it what's for. "Oh, this? Hell, you should see that bear!" She would say.
The flies are hovering lazily through my hair and the shadows are growing longer as the sun falls and falls. The smell of warm dirt and burning coals tickles my nostrils and plays tricks on my stomach. The man of the house has an enormous outdoor cooking pit that looked more like a black hole with a grate over it.
It is getting too dark to write anymore, but that's fine.
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