The sleepy hand found its way to the snooze button. The alarm was silenced before it even began. Sleep refused to let go of the blankets. The brain screamed Monday but the body turned a deaf ear. The pillows greeted the snore. The world shall wait till my feet touch the ground. Then it will spin like out of orbit into chaos. Let me sleep. The story can wait.
Looks like the fog just spared my window to the street. The street lights looked liking smokers in an alley. The cobble stones were wet from the drizzle. The street dogs were busy barking at something. A breeze just unsettled the garbage can's lid. My world hasn't changed much. Everyday I look for some sign of change. Nothing seems to change. I have grown bald. My eyesight has dimmed. My kids have grown. The window pane has gathered dust and dirt. The spiders have evolved. Some old buildings have given way to new ones. The neon signs have gone. Still nothing seem to have changed. Change they say has to come from within. But then, what can come out of an empty narrow dead end?
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