Shadi Eskandani

December Sky

winter has made it’s comeback. expected but never welcome. i am in bed,  sometime after 7 a.m., listening to the acceleration of cars outside my window. i can’t get out of bed. and i can’t sleep. i remember the dream i had, the one about s. his mother was there, we were standing under the shade of a tree. she asked if i knew what day it was, and i said, his birthday. he would have been 16. the dream was too real, her mettalic scent, the raspy sound of her voice. i roll over to my side, stare at the purplish grey of the wall, thinking if this is the color of loss.

i reach over and grab my cell phone from the bedside table. i look at a text message from a few nights ago. i know i can’t take back the things i said. u need someone better. i need someone who isn’t afraid of me. maybe we’re not a good match afterall. i press delete. who cares if i didn’t mean it like that. it always comes out wrong when i’m like this.

i reach for the blinds and manage to wedge an opening with my fingers. in the solace of a moment, i catch a glimpse of the sky welcoming the sun. i let go of the blinds and pull the sheets over my face, press my head deeper into the pillow. and i close my eyes.