Theres something quite off about this quiet afternoon the dead leaves rustle the silent clouds loom over what used to be the birds have stopped their call perhaps they are too lonely to stay the cicadas of a late summer have all faded off one by one i am left alone to stare at the gray gray sky and wonder

Its so strange being in a place that was your home a few hours before but now there is no company but the hum of an indifferent heater i want to turn it off and say being warm is the least of my problems

There are no creaks from the too old bookshelf the warm chocolate wood that i used to inhale when i sat down on the floor the carpet has floral designs but i think to myself they are nothing but lifeless plants that have been dyed until their artificialness masks the musty smell it gives

soon i know the clouds will catch fire but not the same fire as that of before the kind of dark black ashes that fire leaves behind

then the winds will paint and slash tear the sky with black holes until a misty moonlight fills the air smelling of fresh pears and the minty baby green of the Easter egg i ran so hard for when i was little my mother calling after me slow down where are you going honey

but now there is a haze the kind that drapes itself over you when something bad happens something very bad something like when

three hours ago your grandmother called you answered the ringing phone thinking about your essay due tomorrow will i get a good enough score if i do good i should try to convince mom to take me to the mall or get some new jeans my old ones are ripping at the seam you

never knew that you would rip at the seam too

then you heard her voice wet with blue tears and muddy grass and you thought what could be wrong

everything could have gone wrong but you werent worried you were worried about yourself your tiny meager problems like you wished every day without knowing

i look outside as if i am being watched i try to catch a glimpse of the sun but 

then i wonder if it is 

still there after all