by Gordon West

The bean was there and so he grew. With a strong, bending neck he shattered his stifling shelter, broke from the crib of his anonymity and commenced. Finally. The tiny body found new life in auto-botany but was soon, as is the case, his own worst critic. Succumbing to the crisp harshness and pseudo revival of post-summer autumnal chills was easy. Death was soon his formerly smothering, now coveted, shell.