Building Ripples (flash fiction)
Passersby were startled as the skinny, wavering, old-looking man suddenly halted and dropped to his knees, his torn pants on the sidewalk across from the wavy building. His face—ravaged by sun and wind—slacked in awe, as if seeing a whale leap, and his gray beard parted to allow words out: “Thirty-four years on the seas. Island to island. Port to port. Forever in between. Now this. The curves like waves. The sun dances on the windows like on the quivering, never-ending water.”
A pause as the crowd stared.
“This,” the kneeling man said, “this is now home.”