They dried up fast. Then they cracked. Then, they started changing colors. Finally, they just blew away, little flecks of the once famous splotches.

The paint came from a car that was being touched up, a thousand old buildings getting a thousand fantastic makeovers, an angry husband tossing out a lover’s easel, and a small girl making a futuristic mural.

The sun came from space. It was sort of there to begin with, but then it became coherent.

The two never actually sat down and had a chat, but sort of met at a crossroads. It seems like things on the sidewalk always come to crossroads. The sun acted at a distance on the stain. The stain reflected that action to the world.

Now, should a tornado whip through the streets, the stains would lift themselves off the sidewalk, and spread their wings, like some majestic bird. Or, they could unfold into some beautiful insect, emerging from a cocoon. Or they just might tear to pieces, and hit someone’s car.

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