Sunday day

I live in a small town nestled between tall mountains. I’ve lived here my entire life. It’s a beautiful place: a powerful river flows through the middle of the city, slicing through land like a knife through cheese. People flock to the river, building bridges across it, houses next to it and paths beside it – it’s the pulse of the land. I love the sound it makes and I love watching the sun set over it in pinks and oranges.

It’s the night before a hectic week. I look at the clock and realize that I could, under no circumstances, go to sleep at 8:31 p.m. I double click the blue internet explorer icon, listening to the click in my too quiet room. Facebook, gmail, blogspot….no updates. Rizzo, the Chihuahua, is nestled under the covers and my left leg is becoming too warm. I fidget. Maybe I should open the window. There was a strange large black dog in the back yard behind the fence today. I contort my body and open the window, but it doesn’t help.

I’m feeling strangely lonely tonight.