Transient
On a damp February morning, I found myself in the kitchen again. Letting the countertop drain the last ounce of warmth from my palms, I stood immovable like the air that was pressing against my chest. A dull thud broke the silence as each second passed. The leaking faucet was shedding hefty tears in remembrance. My eyes glazed over as I watched the clock on the micro w a ve, while its garish digits rearranged themselves like clumsy children in a school play. They spelled out half past four. Oddly, the street lights were out cold. The ground and sky were melting together into a thick black ooze that entombed everything in its path.The darkness was so profound that it filtered into the room like swelling beams of sunlight. In one corner all the pots, pans and glasses were cuddled together in a confusing heap, lost in the depths of a dreamless sleep. Instead of fixing myself a cup of coffee, I stood there adoring them with envy. Maybe if I stood still enough, I too...