Yesterday's newspaper.

He wasn't sure if it was a good day, or a bad day.  The clouds were indecisive all day as well; letting in the sun then shutting it out as if it were a game of strategy.  He wondered who would win, if it were strategy.  Now the report, the insignificant report had no answers for it's ripples.  It was inconsequential and yet persisted to the paramount thoughts in his head.  The interview was important.  It was his future.  But he had answers to that.  He knew the whys of the directions and the ebbing and flowing of that tide.  The report was masked.  It was that mask that he yearned to remove.  But the answers were not his, nor were anywhere in place to obtain.  Letting go the paper boat in the river.  There will be others.