The shutters let in the light, mellow at first, warm and dewy with that delicious thrill of the early morning breeze, that sharp nippy air, in an instant so cold that it brought goose pimples and a wild burst of euphoria.
The night air had been warm and stuffy, but now she loved the cool feel of the pillow against her skin. That brief steamy grayness flecked with gold, like someone spraying grey ink on the canvas of a long forgotten painting..that of a tempest..smoothening it out, so that the waves looked calm and still and the occasional ripples of gold as they glowed in the sun only held promise..
She shut her eyes to that image and held on to that promise….
But the light was too harsh… too demanding…too fraught with worry..restless with the guilt of unfulfilled promises..
And the day wore on dull and listless..the air smelled dank…heavy with despair..
She closed the shutters as the evening approached and the wind …as restless as ever was lashing out with a wild frenzy…And she waited. Her thoughts were dark and brooding, mirroring the transition of the world from a hazy practical blue to a slate grey…dark and obscuring…comforting and she grew calmer as if lulled into a false sense of security..enveloped and hidden by the fast approaching gloom..She found solace in that gloom..
But the sharp flicker of the street lights being turned on, the unforgiving orange glow which hurt her eyes and drew out beads of frustration, that sharp jolt back to reality..the snapping of a thread
It was night again..