the gray is flat and unending. the rain has been constant. but late last night edgar and i were walking through the puddle-y streets. he is sore and unsettled in this weather. so at 1 a.m. when he couldn't get comfortable, i tied a skirt on and pulled my big parka around me to keep out the damp air and pouring rain and we went walking. the fog was thick and the sky had a pink wash on the edges of it. there was deep silence to highlight the regular sounds that i rarely notice. the wind slapping the neighbors flag so it sounded like a slamming door. the lake moaning. the rain bouncing off the hood of my parka. the water rushing into storm drains along the street. the houses dark and tall and stoic with only 2 or 3 windows awake. and as we kicked through the rain, i felt the blanket of sadness tighten into the night. i had heard earlier in the evening of my friends family tragedy and i was filled with the sinking sorrow of it. we walked in our own little fog, edgar and i, the walls of the prison and the waves of the lake our companions.
a rain soaked april night that has rolled into another rainy gray morning.
The Pen Is Mightier
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