Every time I skip a day, whether by accident or not, I feel like I have unknowingly observed a secret leap year that only I am privy to. And as the rest of the world charges on I'm constantly behind, clamoring quietly in the cracks between days.
The footsteps overhead are visible as they dislodge the dust from the wooden planks, drawn like venetian blinds on my window to world.
As I lie beneath like a benevolent troll, I allow them to cross, collecting my toll: little snippets from their everyday tête-à-tête.
The footsteps overhead are visible as they dislodge the dust from the wooden planks, drawn like venetian blinds on my window to world.
As I lie beneath like a benevolent troll, I allow them to cross, collecting my toll: little snippets from their everyday tête-à-tête.
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