Distraction

Somebody told him the city was in flames. Matthew’s stark shadow stained the sidewalk behind him. The giant robots hurried by in ranks. They looked like walking orange towers, a parade of destruction winding from street to street. He stood at the mouth of an alley and gawked upward at each passing bulk. With monstrous steps each machine strained forward casting about a look of purpose he had only seen on television. Just then he broke away from the scene. He had to. Things needed to get done. He couldn’t just sit around all day and watch these monsters take the city apart. It was already 11:30 and he’d only had his coffee and paper. The laundry would have to go down to Wash Land. His bike tire needed that patch. Then he’d visit Kellso’s Roastary to pick out some beans--maybe a new grinder. He pushed nine on the lift, sighed, and let the doors close around him. The robots waited.