I peeled the heavy, dusty curtain to show my frosted window. My other hand swept across the thin glass, leaving it wet and cold.
Birds chirped all around, a light but sharp sound, cut off by a heavy growl vibrating through my body. I couldn’t see from where it came from, not what it was. The view before me shrouded it.
The dark sky didn’t seem as dark anymore. Through the gaps between the tall, brown houses surrounding me, a shade of silky blue stretched slowly from the ground, pushing up the velvety night away; it blend in with it, like a splash of dark ink in water.
Down below was the garden of my neighbors. I remember explicitly, about five years ago when Jake and I used to play in that same grass. It used to be full then, and lush green, always taken care of, with thin sharp needles of prickly grass stabbing our innocent feet when we ran across it. I felt a smile grow on my cheeks, only to end in a laugh. I looked at it now, and it was bald!
I observed a black dog walk on the gray street. Its feet kept tapping. It took a turn around one of the blocks and just continued on its way. I wondered how far it had to go? The streets were a maze of narrow streams crawling up and down, scattered all across the neighborhood. Maybe it was out for a morning walk. It was unequivocally exercising more than me.
My head went up to where the tallest of the dark bricks ended, only to notice that it was a great deal brighter than before. I saw lonely clouds unstitch themselves and fade against the cold morning. I saw birds diving and shooting all across, and yet I saw no Sun, because I did not want to look at it.
My fingers dropped the heavy curtain, sore from holding it for so long. The steely dust tenses my stomach and burned my nose. I felt tired and my head was heavy. Perhaps now I could get some sleep?