There is winter in the air. Naked trees accuse the sky with their empty crowns. The wind, once the encore of a thousands celebrating whispers, now an empty howl. Leafs rustling in the wind. Like dry tumble weeds curled up into hard shells as they skitter across the bitter struck road.
Inside the heat blows like gods breath through vents. Inside a Saturdays microbial step towards a in person interview for a job on Monday and the bustle of uncluttering a home that needs to be downsized feels frail, fraught and exhausted. So little time – so many grand things to do, so many pieces of the same puzzle to fit into place.
I’m inside the prison again. I’m back, just one or two quests at the time before the guilt of not doing everything that I can grips me. A Gargoyle sweeps the burning sky as I watch…
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