The streets were totally devoid of vehicles and it was barely 1.30am.
My breath formed a cloud and I pretended I was smoking, my black leather jacket and overgrown fringe giving me some kind of rock star attitude as I traced my way home along the tram line.
I counted not less than 12 rabbits as I walked - their little shadows bouncing across the dewy grass - and I wondered what they did in the daylight. The mornings bore the piles of dirt and droppings they left behind, evidence of the mischief they'd been up to overnight. They breed like... well, you know. Easter is coming up.
The birds sang like it was nearly dawn but sunrise was still a long way off. The sound made my solitary moment unscary, even among the silent shadows. I passed the school, sitting quietly in the dark, relaxing for a few days until Monday when it would once again draw the crowds and act as some sort of hive full of worker bees.
The red neon glow of the neighbouring Buffalo Grill was reflected on the grey concrete walls of the Residence as I neared. Opening the door to the hall, the thick, warm laundry air filled my lungs and I remembered pulling my sheets out of the dryer earlier in the day.
Opening the door to my apartment, the smell became familiar - a combination I cannot yet dissect, but one that is not unpleasant. I scowled when I saw my clean sheets on the end of the bed, forgotten in my rush to leave. I threw them over the mattress and climbed between them as I dialled his number to say goodnight. Speaking at what was nearly lunchtime there, he wished me sweet dreams and I said I'd speak longer tomorrow.
"Miss you too."
"Love you too."
Rocking Chairs – Reader Feature
53 minutes ago