GLOOM

I wake up slowly, a yawn preceding quiet contentment. 

image source: unknown, from tumblr

I wake up slowly, a yawn preceding quiet contentment. The fresh sheets and pillows form a cocoon heated by my skin, my breath, my blood. Reluctance keeps me in its alluring grasp for a little while longer, before I decide, Enough is enough. I dangle my feet over the edge, tentatively finding the rich walnut floorboards with my toes, tracing the cavities. I sigh. I glide towards the wooden bookcase opposite my bed and notice it's beginning to become laced with dust. I should clean that later.

Today, I'm in the mood to play a vinyl. Unlike those of the past I've read about, or seen in films, my turntable places the needle down on the record itself, an automatic function instigated by a button. It's a little less personal. I know nothing else but the push of buttons or the click of computers. For a moment, I am weighed down by the realisation of what exactly I have missed out on having, under the pretense that to be newer is to be better. But when I hear the lingering, gloomy bass, I don't mind anymore. A beseeching guitar sings in the background, behind the pained human voice, which seems hypnotised by the tune of loneliness produced by his instruments.

I'm moving in time with the drumbeat now towards the window. It's slow; trudging. Awkwardly, I pull myself up onto the window seat overlooking the streets below. Thin, crispy leaves break by stalks off their branches, circling downwards messily like dying butterflies, and falling on the pavement. People move in and out of the translucent, residing mist. Do they know how small they look? ✦