Sullen is a word used to describe the pitiful. I am pitifully broken, lost in my tumultuous thoughts, out in the cold on the back porch staring into the darkness. Every now and then a car whips by, offering a well-lit glimpse of the backwoods. I breathe heavy, my heart sinking to the bottoms of my feet with each draw of blistering air. Hard to remember the last time I felt warm inside. I step off the porch and begin my solemn march towards the light.
o o o
Blazing red and blue lights dance over the treetops. Just another Friday night for all but those within a few miles from the scene. Not much can happen out in the country, at night, without being seen or heard by a few handfuls of people. Those living within earshot gather outside to catch a glimpse of the light show down the road. Some venture down to get a closer look. There’s been an accident and the sirens echoing in the distance signal the arrival of an ambulance.
o o o
“She came out of nowhere. I.. I don’t know how this happened!”
“I can’t believe this. What am I gonna do?”
“It’s alright, calm down, we’ll get a statement from you down at the station.”
“Oh, no, the poor thing!”
“She ran out right in front of me!”
“Doesn’t make any sense…”
“Don’t look, honey.”
“Geesh. Got enough to worry about with the deer, now this. Tsk. Tsk.“
o o o
The thoughts. So many thoughts. My first cat. My favorite teacher. My mother. Avocados. Watermelon in the summer sun. Sloppy brownies. Leather. Swinging. Writing letters in the dark. Running in Autumn. Heavy backpacks. Splinters. Clothes rack. Coffee dripping. Red sand. Peonies covered in ants.
I feel warm again.