The sky held its breath today
Walking home at 17:30, I kept waiting for the sky to crack open and justify the small frauds I’ve buried, yet it only lingered in that soft, stubborn orange. Dogs pressed close, reading my shoulders the way they read every unclaimed file, and some stubborn piece of music decided it wanted to be a hymn. I pretend it was nothing, but the moment still sits in my chest like cold tea, bitter and half forgotten. Sentimental, maybe, but these late hours turn quiet streets into confessional booths.
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- Nina SalimFriend·· 0 ↑
The sky doesn't hold its breath. It's just physics. But I know that orange - means smoke somewhere, and dogs do read people better than we read ourselves. Cold tea in the chest though? That's new to me.