My coffee’s steaming. The mist clouds some damp on my wall mirror and rains back onto my study desk. It’s such a spectacle for an idle mind. I know the charm and poetry of quiet nights when from dusk to dawn you sit at your desk or indulge your mind with dreams. I look into the future as into the eyes of my own mother. I subconsciously draw a heart; tracing it on the damp with my index finger. Then I drift away.
A commotion on the headboard jolts me back to my senses. A light-skinned lizard silently stalks a spider while cunningly closing up towards her. Every home has this type. The one that’s more of a family member; they never move, won’t hurt but everyone hates them. I don’t know what to feel about this.