The trousers lay steam-press flat on the highway, one leg hemmed above the knee. Folk skirted around them, curiosity creating sporadic queues. Conversations sparked, through wound-down windows, in roadside groups. Picnics appeared. A marquee.

After wind sky-danced the pants heavenward, people fell silent.

The void pulsated, like a phantom limb.

See more of Linda’s work at lindagriersonirish.wixsite.com/artandfiction/fiction.