Little Town Below

I was in a high-rise office building, enjoying the panoramic view afforded by the windows along the far wall.  I could see the whole town spread out on the slope of a hillside.  It looked so small, as though it were just a model of the town, constructed in someone’s basement, an artificial light source set up behind the potting soil hill to simulate the glow of the grey sky above.  The woodsy areas just looked like weeds or tufts of wild grass that had sprouted up as a result of the model being long neglected.  A few broken telephone poles looked as though they’d been patched with splintered segments of popsicle sticks. It seemed that the more I looked, the less I was able to shake this illusion.  I peered closer, straining my eyes to reconcile the reality of what I was seeing.  The cars had that toy gleam like they were made from die-cast metal.  And yet, I could see the tiny people bustling about in the streets.  I tried to touch one of the cars, hold it in my hand, but my fingers just pressed the cool glass.

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