The bottom burst out of the thermometer and filled the air with a chill intense enough to rattle living bones. We didn’t have a winter, yet. Maybe Father Frost overslept and is getting ready to make up for lost time.
Dinner dishes wait on the kitchen counter, notable only because I insist on a clean, organized kitchen. Dad and I are binge watching The Twilight Zone from season 1 episode 1. This entertainment doesn’t lend itself to sweet dreams. I remember watching as a kid, one episode that freaked me out completely. It ruined my sleep for a week and in my mind’s eye, I still see someone peeling the skin away from their wrist to expose red and blue wires. Who knows what will happen when we reach that episode? Will I revert to childish terror or will my fears be put into perspective?
A friend sent me a…
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Nice prose poem like the produce of some French symbolists. Thanks. e/s
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