Rumblings

I sit back and stare at the blankness of the white dashboard on my screen. My fingers itch to type something. But I punch in this instead. Words and images whir through the mess that is my head. I momentarily feel like something is going to burst. With a short but loud 'pop'. Petering into a soft fizzle. Nothing happens. I think of a few well rehearsed lines to write, so I could sound grand, or may be profound or may be interesting. I scroll  the gray button on my black mouse up and down. Randomly. The bloody auto editor underlines my 'grey' in red and indicates to me  I am wrong. I correct it. I spell it as g-r-a-y. The utter blandness of my writing of the past months strikes me. The remarkable insignificance of my words makes me cringe. There's an unusual cold wind rustling the orange curtains in my window.The soft beat of the wind chime does little to drown the noise of the silence around me. I switch on the television just to make sure the noises inside my head become inaudible. The very happy people on Channel V make me cringe a little more. I switch it off. Now i can hear the comfortable breathing of my dog. It is in perfect harmony with his little tummy which goes up and down and up with every breathe. The curtain rustles a little more. This is uncannily cold by my city standards.

I decide to call it a day.
I'll savour the cold, so rare in my city, on my train ride to work tomorrow.