Lies

I watch from the end of the hallway the window panes in the kitchen, the glowing light like an orange candle at play, or a bronze saucepan in the glistening sun of a hot noon in May.

The colours, warm with all sorts of shades, from bronze, to gold, to rust, to clay.

As I got up from bed, on the other side of the house, I couldn’t yet see the light, yet as I walked out into the hallway it mesmerised me, what a captivating sight.

I paused to contemplate, to think about the day that would promptly begin: The meetings to come, the mornings and goodbyes, the notifications, the coming and going, the emails and questions, the half-truths and lies.

The flow of questions and 1-on-1s, the emails, clicks, and calls. Yet in this moment, standing here, I gaze, this is but mine.

The mental haze, it dissipates, and right now all is fine. I make my way to the kitchen, all around, pure silence, I listen.

Past the door, to the coffee maker, I look outside, finally, as I waver.

In this moment, I hate her! The sun… the sky… the day baiter! All along it was but the street lights!

Dawn will come around, a bit later.