She's in the bedroom.
I sit at my small desk in the living room; the bedroom to my back.
There's a large window here, and I'm enjoying the graceful movement of the palm trees in the wnd.
It's a beautiful day, but because of the angle of the sun, or maybe because of me - of what I did -
the light doesn't really make it into the room.
I feel as if I'm staring at a vivd poster of a beautiful day.
It's hypnotizing.
Back is playing here. Prelude to the Sea
It's quite beautiful. Calming.
There's an empty coffee mug here. An empty can of strawberry sparkling water as well. And an empty bowl with a dirty paper napkin in it.
Everything is empty.
She's in the bedroom.
I hear everything now. Before, I only heard the roar. But now...
The breeze in the trees. Bach. Ice floating against porcelian. Water falling from raw finger bones.
The cessation of struggle.
So much sound surrounds my quiet mind.
Did I mention the orchid? I didn't.
A large white orchid sits on the far side of my small desk.
It towers over the empties.
Sixteen white, perfect flowers on two stems in a bamboo box.
I've checked each flower several times for even the smallest hint of red.
There isn't any, of course.
All that is behind me.
The orchid doubles a a border.
Clean.
White.
Beyond lies sunny days and breezy palm trees.
On my side, empties.
And the bedroom.