Defeated skittle

This afternoon I went to a George Saunders book signing. It was so exciting to have a mind like his in town. He read a short story and I felt as though the backs of heads between me and the microphone his words were spitting into didn't even exist. He's one of those authors that take you mindlessly. Before you know it, you're in his world with no idea how you got there. And when you look back expecting to see a door that maybe you came through, there's a fence with a dug-out hole beneath it. Looking down at your fingers, you realize that they're little mud pies, rimmed with dirt beneath the nails. And a tightness taps underneath your forehead and you think to yourself "I was just over there. And now I'm here. What could've possibly of pulled me that hard, injected me with so much curiosity that I'd dig out of my own reality and trespass into another's?" 

After I talked to him and had him sign my copy, I walked onto an elevator headed down. I was alone which was good for what happened. I like to recognize my limitations in small areas. If I'm in an elevator, it's very apparent that I'm enclosed and limited when it comes to an escape plan. So I was surveying the edges and the ceiling and all the way down to the corners. As I was doing this, my eye caught some sunflower seeds in the bottom corner of the elevator and a squished orange skittle directly in front of me. When I hung my head to observe it, I was fascinated. The little previously round skittle was about directly between both of my feet, just laying there defeated like a murdered spider. It's bright orange shell spread out in little flat silvers while it's dull orange center held the mosaic-like candy piece together. It was so beautiful and simple. I reached down to touch it, assuming it was fastened to the floor in a sticky mess. But right as my finger went to feel it, it moved a little. Realizing I could pick it up, I held it between my pointer finger and my thumb like a tiny disk. For half a moment, I realized how odd the whole situation was. If someone were to walk in on me right now, crouching there oohing and ahhing over a crushed skittle. And by this time, the elevator dinged announcing it had arrived on the 2nd floor and was waiting for me to get out. So I gingerly laid down my small orange treasure in the center of the elevator floor and walked out. I wouldn't of noticed that special little broken sun if I hadn't of just spent an hour in the colorful, literary world of George Saunders. 

"To Hannah, with every best wish for your work."