I wrap a cosy blanket around my shoulders – an act of comfort, glance at the rain sliding down the window pane. It falls steadily, unrelenting – deep puddles forming on the street below. Just another Autumn day.
The garden is a riot of colour now; leaves in shades of rust, burgundy and scarlet burning brightly against a heavy, grey sky. High above the rooftops the robins click.
Slowly the light fades, an inky black smothering the town, my throat is closing up. The rain is endless, it dances in the warm glow of the street lamps.
The day has slipped away and I am in the same spot, pulling the blanket tighter with fingers that are stiff with tension – still watching the rain trickle down my window. I haven’t turned the lights on, the glow of my warm phone bleaching my pale skin. My limbs have gone cold.
Some days will come and swallow you whole.
The season is unpredictable; I stumble through it with a head foggy with rain and a heart filled with brilliant sunshine, never quite sure which will present itself.
Today the rain fell.
But tomorrow is another Autumn day.