I didn’t feel particularly tired. Clicking the television shut, I fished out a cigarette and wedged the window open. The snow had begun to fall again, erasing all traces of the footprints that had marked the streets but a few moments prior. Brief thoughts came to mind but drifted away as unceremoniously as they came. The wind blew flakes into diagonal white streaks, and somehow the silence felt anew. There I stood, awake in a neighborhood of sleeping tenants; the end of my cigarette scribbling smoky sentences for storied that would never be read.
And as I embraced the cold winter chill with shivering hands and hairs standing on end, I smiled inwardly;
lucid in a world of dreams.
