It's one of those nights when the air feels almost stagnant. Not bitter, just unmoving, worn out- like a slightly damp table cloth as it hangs limply over the edges of the table to drape across your knees. It's still, but not lifeless. I can feel a faint humming energy about the night that reminds me it's alive.
A shocking breeze just floated in through my window, engulfing me completely; sending goosebumps rippling up my arms. Tonight is one of the coolest nights we've had in weeks, but you can only feel it when the wind blows. And yet... it's almost no even cool in temperature as much as in essence. I'd guess it's about 60, 65 degrees out. But the chills in my spine tell me it's more like 25, when the wind blows.
Oddly, that wind isn't bothering me. Ever time those chance breezes touch my sleepy skin they send electrifying waves through my body. Makes me think of dark water and moon-lit white water lilies. I suck in a sharp breath and my hair stands on end.
There is a lamp beside my bed with a cream shade. The golden, muted light reminds me of a candle and suddenly I'm back in the nineteenth century. The throbbing warmth of that lamp, steady and cozy is like an antidote to my nerves. In my mind I smell wood polish, unbleached paper, and camp fire. It's all leather chairs with metal tack-things all around the edges.
I feel more ready for bed now. My covers feel softer, kinder. The clock reads "11:20 pm". The crickets no longer sounds so shrill and cutting in their buzzing and chirping.
Tomorrow will be a good day. I know it. Because I have decided so already.
Good night.
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