It was a hot sultry night and the world was sweating.
Outside, the dry leaves of what was meant to be a cool
autumn drifted lazily accross the grey asphalt and danced to
a slow, monotonous tune. And I waited.

It was the kind of heat that you would read about in cheap
novels with a setting somewhere in Texas where the whole
town is crying about the terrible heatwave which goes on for
about 6 pages and dissappears. The house felt like a big
square hamburger on a brown barbecue of steaming earth. I
sat in a wooden chair by the window and stared at the
yawning night. I wondered for a few moments what I was
waiting for and decided not to remember. It was best to stay
here and wait for something to erupt maybe and color this
night into greens and purples and blues and make it pretty
again. But the world would always be this for now.

Several shadows which seemed red met on the wall and I
dreamed of the day when a little child with wise eyes would
come up to me and tell me what it was all about. Children
know the world. Or maybe the fact that they don't know
enough of the world is what makes them so delicately pure.
Soft and happy, soapy and pure. Not like the dreary rusty
reality I had collapsed into. My only question was why could
people not smile and think of smiling instead of what they
would win by that smile. I breathed in tiredly and I felt as
if the world breathed in tiredly with me. Leaves suddenly
flew back restlessly and then fluttered down as if they had
never moved. A  feeling came over me. What was so desperate
about it was that it was just indescribable. Like times when
you hear an old song and it reminds you so much of running
around in water sprinklers and eating with your hands and
getting your first reading book and crying when you grazed
your knee rollerblading. It was a longing feeling that
something was missing and I would never remember what it
was.

So I decided to go to sleep and run in fields of sticky
glittering ponies and small life-like houses.
The world was so still that if you listened real close you
may have heard its sweet quiet moaning as it opened up its
clouds and cried. By the time the potent drops hit the
motionless leaves I was in a green world of echoing childish
laughter.