Fiction Writing. Second Story- Three pictures

This is my Second fiction writing.  It's from the three pictures we had in class.

Cold Useless Rain

         Start on a road.  Named 22.  Ambassador Matt Myers; can hear the rush of air.  Like a fan beating down, down, and down.  A habit of a road; sign you see daily.  Traveling along the deep and windy.  831 Kennedy Road, 5^th floor.  In habit, but end up somewhere much colder.  Where the bright is blue.  The towers are tall.  The water is cold.  The ‘ay’ is echoed.

            As time chills, you start again to a place near home.  To endless curves and florescent signs you see. 

            Hall Street, 31405. Resulting in the 1950’s of tall white poles. Beds of red, white, and green lines and circles cover the entrance.  Black and white is contrast lines of daily life.  You enter with a pair of mittens to leave with one. 

            To wander in the dance, leaves with the steps of continuations.  Where you end is where you started.  The road continues.  Made up by a pre-determined path of geographical features.  Smooth.

            As hunger growls, desperation happens.  He sees the rush of air.  The rags happen.  Dead bird.  Dinner.  The road is gone.  The air is quiet.

            The places are just pieces of paper.  Endless memories of time; where the note is a live picture.  The trip has faded.  The dust consumes.  Only to be re-awoken by the sheer sight of blue, red, and white.  Looking out above your porch in the morning fills your imagination.  Listening to the bird, looking at the cars pass, and the past itself gone.  That quickly, the idea of a new habit is traded for the daily walk.  The daily sips of coffee. 

            This all began by opening the mailbox.  Looking to see what is here and there.  Flipping through the bills of days.  It is a new touch. With the rain, the mere idea is gone.