Some days, when I’m feeling…Melancholy of all things, I sit and brood while the mist of dawn rolls in from the mountains in the East. Just as I’m lulling to sleep, I hear the soft patter of rain on the roof, a quiet rattle of the wind at my door. A screech comes from across the room, the clatter as books fall off the shelf. Something whispers over the tiles of my floor, encrusting them in ice, and I slowly stand. I think its time to get up and say “hello” to my new friend.
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