fourteen september
seven : thirty-eight p.m.

she went home for the weekend.

i thought i would be sad about being alone - it has happened every other time she has left - but something feels different this time.

the weather is absolutely perfect. a bit chilly, with a nice breeze. blues skies. cauliflower clouds. it smells like autumn.

the windows are open and the sun has set and the night insects are emerging and singing.

i think i'll keep my music off tonight.