Friday. I wake this morning to a bright and clear day. The leaves are still a brilliant red, many still clutching the branches of the tree from which they were born. The yellow shimmers off of their counterparts already fallen to the ground. I am alone in this large warm bed. I slept in dreams I can now not recall specifically. Craddled by pillows not arms. I am separate from the rest of the world, the human population resembling a foreign land. Content mostly. The lonliness more of a nagging feeling in my stomach as if yesterday I forgot to do something; buy milk, mail a letter, drop off a borrowed item to a neighbor.
Coffee is my partner, we review and linger over the newspaper of the day. I enter the shower listening to NPR. I talk to the radio half expecting a direct response, a question back to me requesting knowledge, information.
Driving to work, still in my world alone, I see others all around me too drifting.
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