home, somehow

9 Jan

Walked past the old man in the corner house and waved. He said good morning in a still-groggy just-woken voice that reminded me of home, somehow. An older home I knew. Cold tile floors, dim yellow lights, the smell of coffee, and a rustling of newspapers. Everyone loves the crisp, cool morning air. Everyone loves a peaceful walk, a moment or two completely alone, a fresh day ahead and the possibilities, the anticipation of the possibilities like a pit in your stomach swallowing the butterflies and pushing you forward, up, and down, making you absolutely insane before anything happens, all while you look so tranquil on the outside, dodging a slug on the sidewalk and looking at your phone in your palm to hide yourself.


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