I was once the newest living thing in the entire universe.
I was younger and fresher than absolutely everything else.
Nothing had my vigour.
Some people were forty six years old, I was the youngest person alive.
Then, within the most frantic dicing of a millisecond something knocked me off my perch.
It could've been anything.
A premature cockroach.
A Scottish bee.
A Nigerian daffodil.
Posted by Michael Crowe at 10:29 PM