Go-Map-Seumnida

by Todd Sullivan

Said the man to the stairs that wound up a high hill to a cluster of homes. Echos of a future he
dreamed existed behind brick walls overlooking a city of waking lights. Inhaling the humid air of
a lazy summer that overstayed its welcome, he listened to faint voices slipping through yawning
windows. The clang of silverware against porcelain dishes, the bark of dogs and the cries of
babies, added to a familial symphony. Up dozens of steps and down dozens of steps, day after
day and week after week, exercising a weakened heart that he hoped to see him through another
year, another decade, into senior years as he made his way home.

A sign of middle
age, discovered ailments with
complicated names