Saturday afternoons get to me. Especially the wintry, gloomy kinds.
You glance at the clock, wondering however can time pass so slowly, yet the next you look, you are taken aback at how time has just flitted past, like the ethereal shadows we sometime glimpse out of the corners of our eyes.
Words spoken in haste, spoken under the pressure of unsound judgement, resonate in your ears long after the phone has been replaced in its cradle. You wonder how things change so fast, evolving to previously unimagined proportions in the space of an hour.
You open boxes long stashed away, and the memories burst out like dusty butterflies eager for sunlight again. You sift through the pieces of a broken heart, and the lessons once taught are relearnt. Your spine tingles at the overpowering sense of deja vu.
Seated on your bed, the skies slowly clearing outside, you are stock still, yet thoughts churn round and round, one thought chasing another in an endless circuit. You wonder how many other human beings on this dismal day are going through the same thing as you.
Just one more would be nice.
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