Corona (1)

Corona (1)

The bulk of “Corona” rolled under me. My sweet little rustbucket drifted away from the denser part of the junkyard.

Nothing had “easy money” stencilled on the side, like old-timey¬†electronics that belonged to nobody. All the gold and tantalum just sat there, so lonely.¬†“Keeps me searching for a heart of gold, and I’m getting old,” I sang under my breath. Oldies were the best. Continue reading “Corona (1)”