Last night, a stillness held the air. I felt neither too hot nor too cold, but restless as I smoked cigarettes and drank a cupful after cupful of honey lemon tea. Staring out the kitchen window at the rain washing the street. The neighborhood stood silent; no yelling kids, no basketballs bouncing, no dogs barking, few cars shhhhh-ed by in the street, and the wind barely moved the leaves outside my window. Nothing, save the pellets of water dropping onto the grass.
I considered going out, to find solace in the company of strangers. A smoky room of smoky possibilities, no matter how slim. To sit and sip alone in a room of others drinking to forget or warming up from the cool rain.
But I stayed in, and fought the scratching of something trying to get out of my skin. And stared at the shadows of the leaves moving in the breeze on the sidewalk.
Honey lemon tea.
Vanilla scented wax warming on the lamp.
Lilly sprawled in the living room.
The clink of bone china.
A thump of a Restless Heart.
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