Evening in Apartment 292
Sitting on a small balcony, dusky light tendrils dance with pine needles. Hummingbirds flit and chirp, small, erratic. My muscles release as the sun sinks into the earth.
Winding cigarette clouds waft upward, bitter smoke stings the inside of my nose.
A shout from below, “I hate you!”
The glass door beneath slams, rattling my chair.
The murky puffs become skunky, nauseating, but the screaming stops. The hummingbirds zip away for sweeter nectar. Now the air is purple and periwinkle first star appears through spiky September trees.
I plug in white Christmas lights woven through green iron rails. Parched blue paint peels in jagged curls under bare feet, laughter from the identical balcony next door floats over
Sitting on a small balcony, dusky light tendrils dance with pine needles. Hummingbirds flit and chirp, small, erratic. My muscles release as the sun sinks into the earth.
Winding cigarette clouds waft upward, bitter smoke stings the inside of my nose.
A shout from below, “I hate you!”
The glass door beneath slams, rattling my chair.
The murky puffs become skunky, nauseating, but the screaming stops. The hummingbirds zip away for sweeter nectar. Now the air is purple and periwinkle first star appears through spiky September trees.
I plug in white Christmas lights woven through green iron rails. Parched blue paint peels in jagged curls under bare feet, laughter from the identical balcony next door floats over