TWENTY-TWO.

As I lay here in bed the air is heavy and wet, it feels like a hot summer in the city. I can feel my old bed hear my oscillating fan see the WWI memorial from my window. The windows are open I hear the sirens and cars below me, the smell of the hot concrete still lingers even after the sun has gone down. I lay here hot unable to sleep but find myself relishing in the moment of this sweet summer weather. I feel not of this place, the air is heavy with energy and hold the potential of magic. Tonight I feel something shifting.