"would not, from all the borders of itself, burst like a star: for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life." --Rainer Marie Rilke, The Archaic Torso of Apollo
Earlier that evening he sat with the half eaten omelet, hash browns and coffee that long had grown cold. Half written pages, like napkins, rested on the edge of the plate. A corner dipped into the ketchup filling the tiny veins lacing the pages.
Now, Harvey stood in the middle of the basketball court willing the gods to strike him with a billion watts of soul shearing lighting.
After an hour, his eyes catching the flashing bolts, he then, rather particularly, he started dancing.
At first, the little awkward movements seemed more like shuttering, but it soon became apparent when he flung his arms about and starting a moving his legs that he was attempting a dance of some sort. At a glance one would think he was practicing a ritual of some kind. He jumped through puddles, kicking-up water. He would suddenly stop, turn and shake his head, all the while churning his arms. One strike made him jump higher, and he ran in the direction of the light to the edge of the court, then, he'd see another streak and whorl his way in the that direction.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a small figure standing in a small clearing. He stopped, looked and then began to smile. He shouted, "I knew you would come! I know that you care for me!"
But the figure stood, immobile and solid as a statue. Harvey stopped dancing and moved toward the figure. In a sudden flash of light, the figure was struck by a blazing streak of light. Harvey froze. The small figure, seemed to waver like a mirage, then collapse.