Taking in big breaths, I'm grateful to be away from my own house and able to relax.
One afternoon, one of my associates at work receives a large bouquet of purple flowers.
It's twilight, the sun is barely seen with the smog, the air cooler now that the night is coming on.
It's chilly, the sometimes stiff breeze casting the leaves into a muffled crackling, the dust blowing across the park.
Yes, that’s what she was called. I don’t know if I ever remembered her given name. But Aunt Mute it was.
Can't sleep. I'm huddled, warm and comfy, under my covers, with the one street lamp beaming harshly into the window. Want to get up and close the curtain but too comfortable under the covers.