At the edge of the purple, the Moon seemed to hang just overhead. Half full, the white side sagged low, like a bowl full of water. ‘Wasn’t it unusual for the moon to still be out, now?,’ she thought. Thinking about it now, she couldn’t remember when she’d last seen the moon and the sun sharing the same sky. Something about the idea seemed perverse, as if it defied understanding.
We’d wondered, for so many a night, what it meant. Something was still going on inside, that much would be sure. Soon, the cracks would start to show, and drop by drop this whole thing would come apart, the land returning to how it was. That was all well and good with me too. I knew it would happen eventually, as all things do, but for now something kept it going.
Sometimes, when I stand in the same place for a long time, I get so accustomed to it that when I move again I get lightheaded. I become aware of my clothes on my skin, in particular any loose threads brushing against the hair of my arms and legs, the feeling of my muscles flexing and relaxing, hard and soft at once.
The fog came in like the tide, slow and unassuming. At first he thought it was just a cloud, passing the office window. Of course, it never passed. It just stood there, foreboding, as if it was the norm. As if it would never leave. He had looked down the long corridor, and saw it wash across the windows at the end, his only source of daylight, gradually blotting out the sun, until they were fully submerged.
It had come to her out of nowhere, a butterfly of a thought that drifts past you and lands on your nose, sprinkling some scales like pollen in its wake. Scales to seeds, taking root, under the current, slipping into your subconscious until it was so ubiquitous to be original.
One cold Winter morning, I stood waiting for the bus. The Sun was low in the sky, having only just risen a half hour ago, and would set only a few hours from now. Stripes of clouds drifted in the air, stretching but never losing their shape. I was bundled up, but still felt the cold slip under the cuffs of my pants around my ankles and the chill on my back.
The evergreens here were taller than those back home, she thought. They stretched up towards the sky, becoming long & spindly by the tree tops, swaying only gently in the breeze. She wondered how they managed to stay so strong, being as slight as they were.