rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


Dusk arrives, and the sky which was gray all afternoon at last turns blue, a deep and rich shade which first darkens, then gradually grows both paler and more dim, and gives way to starless night. The heavy canopy of clouds conceals the half moon's light, except for brief moments when a patch will glow, then fade, as the dense vapor is driven east by winds unfelt on the ground. A few times, late in the day, scattered drops of rain would fall, and the scent of damp pavement would rise, but now the cool air is empty, and there is not even the croaking of frogs to break the stillness that prevails between the sounds of the last commuters' cars passing and the occasional bark of a dog. The town has closed its doors and windows, the birds have settled and now sleep, the pine needles dimly etch the darkened sky unmoving, ink on dark, mottled parchment. I listen for the sound of raindrops, but none come.

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