Cutting out the sun, clouding over the sky, chilling my sinew.
Sinew binds muscle to bone.
Great grey towers. Bulbous and grotesque. The greying domes usually inspire an intrigue, a happy intrigue. Twisting shapes exploding outwards. Today however, I am annoyed.
I had just stepped out of my room to bask in the sunshine, tea cup in hand, when the infrastructure started installing itself. Undoubtedly without the required permissions and forms. Procedure need not be adhered to if one is merely a large grouping of water droplets.
What a life, huh?
The clouds are basking. Above their greyed out underbellies, these wispy bemouths stretch up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere. This is where the sunshine resides. Sadly, I have other work to do, and the bliss of silent rumination cannot go on forever. One probably wouldn’t want it to anyway. Too much of a good thing like they always say.
Popping the little white pill, I take a sip of water and throw my head back.
I have gotten better at swallowing those. Still not easy though.