Night before first.
The wind was there, chilly and wanted, dancing about the emptiness, staring at nothing, nothing at all, not even me who sat there waiting for attention. Wind, she did not care. Wind, she did not bother. She just flew, one land too far, one person too near, and she passed through everything, all these things with a careless whisper, for it truly did not matter to her.
I was apprehensive.
Right then, right there, I was worried.
Because the wind seemed too flighty to even take me away. And I needed away. Maybe even a metamorphosis into a wind. If only it would allow.
But realities to feel, realities to bear. The wind said, Why should I take your burden? And the wind was gone. Leaving behind the chill and the darkness. And Me.