The sky crackles and threatens to split in two this morning, revealing who-knows-what. Maybe the beast who eats garbage and has finally come to devour all this filth. I don’t really mean that. Clawing at the dawn and burning selfishness on its way to work? No. That’s not it. But there’s something else. The voice that, if you listen closely, sings the subtle harmony behind the weather; the one with the hearty laugh that throws rocks at me all day? He’s humming, I think. And I can feel the storm being wrapped around me, as if to show me the calm inside by comparison. It couldn’t be. But as I write, this tiny Portuguese girl outside the laundromat begins to dance down the street to the beat of my music. I look up and further, above the rooftops and promise to never again.
You keep humming dude, I’ll keep dancing.
