The summer wind howls in the dark. I haven’t switched on the lights yet. The wind seems to sweep through the glass of the windows, immune to man made barriers. I move to the sliding door, and hesitate, watching as the wind swings the trees around easily, with power. Then I open the door. I spread my arms wide. The cold wind rips through me, as though I have no body and am only soul. The dusk is dark gray and fading, and it’s just me and the wind. We breathe. We dance. We talk. We are alive beneath the steadily becoming stars.
Published by Veronique
20-something writer, reader, and blogger. I am the wife of C.J. Krüger, the willing slave of a black and white tuxedo cat named Aragorn and a ginger cat named Faramir, a professional student of old things, and a recovering coffee addict, among other things :) View all posts by Veronique