It's remarkable how easy it is to lose something you never had. I saw the pattern of the textured drywall ceiling before I opened my eyes; head still spinning from last night with Wray and his nephew. I sat up- "Too quickly," and groaned with my head swimming in the pool of my hands as my eyes adapted to the warm darkness. I decided to meditate on nothing in particular and proceeded to sit in silence until the sun awoke. "Just... one... more!" it grunted as it hoisted itself up and into the sky. Fingers of filtered light began to stretch through the blinds, filling the overcast corners of the single-bedroom apartment. Colours flaunted their vibrancy as best as they could exhibit and my heart beat faster in my chest for them.
The two windows gaping at the sunrise opposed each other, yet worked together to illuminate the space in-between. I'd hung up curtains on the west-facing and installed blinds on the east-facing windows to maintain a twilight. This light helped my mind settle enough to allow me to work; silently drawing inspiration from the shapes created by the Earths rotation.
Steam slithered out and caressed the corners of the cupboards as the kettle in my hand picked itself up and poured. When the rippling brown mirror in the "sleep is for the weak" Patrick Star mug, finally rose high enough to reflect the narrow beam of light from outside, I cradled the cup in the web of my fingers and tread lightly across the beam to the window.
The blind went up. Iustum, the east window, yes, I named my windows, followed suit. My legs swung out; Patrick Star now staring down the multitude of heads two stories beneath, each bobbing in time to the ever-visible but silent music. Each step, each breath; all to the tempo unheard.
With the wind clemently nudging me side to side, I started to sway a little, tea undulating port and starboard. My gaze failed to break from the ocean beneath me.
By evening, Sol had slid into the bath so only his eyes and hair were visible, flowing over the dimming sky with complimentary hues of red and orange. Planes glided across, their trails wrinkling the forehead of the horizon as it yawned, eager to slumber. I yawned too, still cradling my mug, leaning against the window frame, letting the unheard music play.
