I tripped over a stroller on the way to work today. Not the best start to a Monday morning, I admit. My foot caught in the front wheel and my face was caught by the ground. The child in the stroller had the gall to laugh. I didn’t.
It was musty up in the loft, as if no one had been there for a very long time. Dust draped itself over the furniture like a lover, nuzzled into small creases and dark places. Light oozed in from a dirty window, like a snake into a mouse hole.
It was strange, with no moon in the sky. The night seemed empty without it. Dark. The stars couldn’t pick up the slack, too far away to shine any brighter, for their light to reach us any more. It was strange.
Well, it didn’t look very good, that was certain. Their chances were bleak, if even that. Darkness pillowed around them like a thick cloud, too thick to slide into the lungs with ease. Too dark to see the way out.