On cold living room floors, the air is always crisp.
Because the room is mostly empty, and the curtains are dark, breath comes easier. And because it’s so quiet it feels like an echo without sound. It feels like waves of piano and maybe violin but because it’s so quiet it’s only the sound of clothes rubbing against each other. It’s like the moment taken to inhale big news but the moment lasts an hour, maybe two. It’s like lying on snow to make snow angels but instead the sky looks so clear that the angel’s left unwinged. It’s like falling in dreams, like sleeping with open eyes, like floating on water. But eyes stay closed and the water stays still.
The ceiling looks so nice from down here.