A Franz Kafka erasure By Taybrook Mills The Grizzled Oldie sat, his pale cactus hair legs sticking to the leather of his car seat. He felt the cringing heat pouring down from the sky, and muttered unspeakable grumbles at the Sun God. A wrinkle of weak sweat melted from his forehead, drizzling down to his feathered brow. As the light changed, he slowly pressed his foot to the pedal, watching the other clunking cars rattle past. He knew he could fly past them in his Mercedes C3