It Was Only a Stone in My Shoe

I can smell winter.

The scent fades with the ray of sunlight, bringing with it the hope of another spring.

I take a sip from the lid of my thermos. I turn the page. I listen for the next song. I kick off my shoes. I chew on my snack.

This is all I need right now — a book, some tea, music, and a bar of chocolate — on the roof of my building, making my own kind of silence.

I look up. The buildings red like rust, the television antennas like fishbones, the roof vent like a royal crowns.

Then I realize, for the first time in two and a half years, I’m happy.

Because I love.

And am loved.

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One response to “It Was Only a Stone in My Shoe

  1. Yes you are.

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