The crying sun of Boston
I rolled out of bed to the same grey landscape that never seems to change despite the changing days.
I rode my bike through the damp streets illuminated by the crying sun, as I approached the Red Line
I reached for my Charlie Card and swiped it through the turnstile to my first destination of Beacon Hill.
I rushed down the brick sidewalks to my real estate office to pick up the keys for my Boston condo showing
I crossed the Boston Public Garden, I made my appointment on Commonwealth Ave. with five minutes to spare. The sun stopped crying.
