She remarked on the weather. Nostalgia, she said, for simpler times. How it’s all in the clouds, watching autumn drift in and I believe it, that these clouds took all those years to reach us and they were the same as they were then. But oh, doesn’t it feel like the end of the world in mid-October.
But then again, was there were ever a simpler time?
We don’t mean to but it happens. The weather changes and you could be at a desk, the pile of work set aside as you clutch your head, trying to figure out how the days passed you by. Something’s ringing in the background but it’s just a phone, it’s your mother, she’s calling to see if you’ve eaten yet and to remind you that you’re still a failure. She wonders why you still don’t want to see her. But you do.
You have to suffer. Your goals have to be unattainable. Lightning, like love, doesn’t strike twice. And then you wonder.
Do clouds go people watching?