I awoke from a nightmare from which I was begging to wake. Please be a dream, please be a dream, wake up, wakeupwakeupwakeup. Donned my scruffy old plaid robe, shuffled to the coffee maker, which was mercifully full and warm. Spencer left for work earlier, probably before things went bad in dreamland. Then, time is different there.
It's cooler today. No swimming. The sky is close and grey. The mountains are shrouded in thin blankets. No traffic and hardly even a hum of electricity. The birds sit quietly on the wires, paper silhouettes against the white. The crows are nowhere to be seen. If I spoke out here, it would be in a whisper. I go back inside. The news seems all either horrific or horrifically stupid. The anchor robotic, plastic and gleeful. Too bright. I turn it off. Silence.
Not a sound from you the last few days.
I'm compelled to ask: Is anybody out there? And, are you okay?
I can hear the kids playing down the hall, a happy cadence but muffled, distant. The only music to dare break this silence is classical. I'll put some on, not too loud, start bending wire for armature.
This is morning, day 83