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Aura, Clay Morgan

Clay Morgan

"He was millions of years younger now.

It was spring in the city. Small white clouds scudded overhead and the breeze reached down between buildings. Newspapers rambled past. Their shadows bounced beneath them, chasing them into the street and under the wheels of cars. He watched, entranced. The rush of traffic dazzled him. The sky's bright blue made him shiver. Every time he looked up, he felt his eyes startled wide and a small nervequake tremble down his back. He dared the sensations as he waited for his bus. He kept glancing from the street to the sky, triggering that …