You're hopelessly limp in your soft clothes, your garments hang loose about you and your eyes are tired. The seams of your shirt are slowly coming undone, much like your day, which has unfurled without an end, like the bellowing wind on the dunes of an abandoned beach.
Your heart is hollowed yet whole. It beats with scarlet warm blood and pulses its way through your veins. Your fingers rest between your bosom, where they usually like to stay. You shift your focus to the nothingness in front of you; it's melancholic. The muteness surrounding you suddenly becomes a white noise that is faint at first, yet it becomes louder. How hadn't you noticed that complete silence could turn into such a deafening roar? Maybe you hadn't listened hard enough.
