Staring out | Short Story

It was cold, and a heavy fog covered the green hills The colors were gloomy and woeful, as if they were mourning
for the unknown .
The air suffocated the cries and feelings in my heart, and the hatred in my throat.
cruel cold that marked the deep of my entire body.
I stared out of my bed and put my hand on the steaming glass so that the steam would not deprive me of seeing the cold beauty of nature.
The house smelled of poverty and despair.
I have always hated the smell of poverty in humen homes. The scent that smelled of the gradual death of human desires and the decay of the soul.
The eyes gradually lost their radiance like dying stars.
And it was as if I had lost my soul on top of that foggy green hill behind that giant green tree.