What little light that was left faded from the corners of your room. Your fellows were ushered away by the butlers of our imagination, always perpetually cleaning up the mess of tangled thoughts and visions left strewn across the floor and tied to those around us. We were left in the dark, and in the dark we hid in the warmth of each other’s existence. We kept away from the roaring winds outside, content in our refusal to accept the dangers beyond the walls. These walls that we kept around ourselves, now kept around each other. From your window a shrubbery shook and shushed against the rain worn glass, dancing in the storm. “I haven’t seen that bush since I was a child. It was tiny back then. It’s gotten a lot bigger. ” You said, with an unspoken sigh on your breath. I didn’t have to look to know how heavy you felt, weighed down by the strands of ideas left over in the back of your mind, how did I get here, how did this happen? But in this moment they didn’t matter, you only indulged in your sleepy pleasures.
I looked up into some corner of darkness, aware of every shift and non-existant twitch. The shrubbery shook and shushed. I whispered, “I haven’t seen that bush before in my life.” Something in that made you smile, and I closed my eyes, happily slipping away knowing that I could make you smile.