I sat at the left end of my bed and stared out the window. The sleeves of my oversized grey sweater clung onto the handle of my red mug of tea as it rested on my legs of socks folded under me. The rain from the night had left a certain petrichor lingering in the crisp winter air. It was pleasant, and somewhat assuring. Assuring of what, I cannot say as I am unsure myself. I had awoken this morning with an attached yet unfamiliar sadness surfacing me. It felt unlike my own, yet all means of possibility said otherwise. It had no depth, like a sealant plastered onto me. I was reasonless for this sorrow. And if this sorrow was to be mine, should I not have felt it's source or sense of belonging? I do not know. I do not know why this sadness demands to be present, nor do I know how to rid of it. I just hope this despair is ephemeral.
Despite this woebegone version of myself, I still seem to hold some part of the real me. I observe the outside with amazement. Winter had always left me awestricken. The brown trees left only with their skeleton, exposed to the outside world. Almost makes me wish that I was one of the brown giants. I just sat there in serenity for a while. Watching the cold outside as the heat of the tea slid down my throat and into my stomach to flourishing through my whole body.
A familiar knock made itself noticed on my door.
"Come in" I said softly, my voice shaky from not talking for a while.
Elijah's head poked out from behind my perfectly white door. "Good morning" He greeted.
"Hello there. Come in Elijah. I didn't say linger by the door." I said
Elijah was my best friend. I had met him when I had still attended school. Which when was was in kindergarten until I was in eighth grade.
"What are you up to?" Elijah asked.
"Simply enjoying the outside world through the comfort of the warm indoors." I replied.
"You should try stepping outside for once" Elijah suggested sarcastically.
"I should, but I really won't" I responded with a smirk, the smirk I would flash at Elijah in third grade when I got the last purple crayon before he did. We always did share the love of the colour purple.
*****INCOMPLETE, PUBLISHED FOR CORRECTING PURPOSES*****
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Nostalgia
Ficción GeneralAfter the Atomic World War, the survivors were split into 6 cities. The first newborn generation of 2050 were offered a special chance. In exchange for $100,000, parents must allow their new born child to be part of a new telepathic experiment by th...
