Body aches. Waking is painful. Consciousness. It reinstates my pain. My suffering.
But I rise from the floor as the cat bites my hand. Demands something. Attention. Breakfast. Something.
There's sunlight today, and I smile as it kisses my face.
The clouds have been smothering me. Coating my existence in a haze. A thick fog to trudge through.
Last night I venture out for food. In the drizzling rain and the sparkle of the wet city lights, I walk towards nourishment. But as the wind attempts to steal my umbrella, as I'm passing the Thai restaurant, coming up to a bar, I lose my direction. I pause. Stop. Don't move.
I look through the window. At the figures seated on bar stools, leaning towards one another, exchanging stories of moments past. Laughing with the help of warming spirits. I watch the couple of folks locked into place, hunched over the bar, fixated on the television. Pints in hand. Worries else where.
I stand there for a minute. Viewing. Observing. Contemplating.
Then I turn back towards my apartment. Twist my head down. Spear my umbrella into the wind. Take long, quick strides.
Who needs food anyway?
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