Two things changed. The color of the skies and the intensity of emotions in the room. Images. Family. Friends. Glee. All that was and all there would be.
What the flashlight says when it dies a slow death. Every flash cutting short the path to certain darkness. Every flash. Every second in life. Family. Friends. Glee.
What grass says as it crackles under your feet. Every step you take towards your goal – lives get trampled upon. Something you don’t know suffers. Or was it someone? Every step. Every second in life. Friends. Glee.
What the mailbox says everytime it opens for you. Empty. Loneliness replaces expectation. That mailbox – your life. Your sphere. Empty.
Finally. All that there was. A dead bird in the mailbox. You.
No Family. No friends. No glee. Just all that there was and all that there will be. The dead bird in the mailbox. The dead bird in thee.