It could have been home
The day was one of the longer ones. Completely exhausted after attempts to sort my thoughts and structure a reply that would back my case yet restore a peaceful atmosphere, I travelled west and north for an hour. My head was pounding, and I carried a bag heavier than I should have. It had to be one of those days with no vacant seats on the subway ..
Once back on street level again, it had started raining. A fog was seeping down between the buildings, and all chrismas lights merged into one fountain of light. It was a light rain, misty, and the air was cool. Not cold. Just cool. Once I reached the door, I was sad to go in, and I delayed ringing the bell. The drizzle brought bounce to my hair and life to my skin, and though clearly not flowing, it washed away some of the frustration. A man came to the door and asked me to wait inside, its warm and dry in here, he said. I smiled. No thanks. This is perfect. Its just perfect.
