Earl Grey
I see my reflection in the cup….
Snow and chaos are one in the same here. Inside are frantic, nervous molecules bouncing off each other, contained in this small flourescent space which is surrounded by chilly clouded fluff.
Outside are vauge figures shrowded in silencing flakes. “Quit your complaining” mother nature says. Snow muffles the groans and gasps at the biting spats of wind across eyelashes.
I fog my reflection with a drop of milk and a drizzle of honey.
Inside now is silent and calm. The warm glow of one single dancing flame. The relaxing hum of the refrigerator, the only cold thing in this place. One solitary molecule, resting tired eyes, ears readjusting to quiet. No blanket of snow in here to turn the volume down.
I glance down. An empty teacup. Empty.
An empty apartment. An empty bed.
Grasp for the remote so meaningless shadows and murmurs can fill the spaces.
