rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Reflexive

The rented house across the street has new tenants, and they have kids who were out playing on the street this evening. The sound of kids playing at dusk provokes a sense of melancholy for me. When I was that age I never wanted to go in at dusk, especially in summer.

The pools of light under street lamps and the rustling of birds bedding down in bushes, the fading sounds of cars as traffic died down, the freshness of the cooling air and the glow of shaded windows along the street were all too alluring, the games were too much fun.

Dusk was my favorite time of day, but it was always tinged with sadness because I knew I'd be called in at any moment. Now I can stay out all night if I please, but that sadness always returns whenever I hear kids playing at dusk. Out of deep memory I call myself, and my thoughts go in, back to that house where everything ends.
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