Huddled

With the lights on, everything appears dead. The fruit looks inedible. All the books look unlegible. My hat seems to have sunk, lost confidence and become smaller. All the paper appears superfluous. Nothing at all seems necessary – except , of course, my wallet, keys and phone. This is a time that must be countenanced and endured. Dusk is past. Evening has imperceptibly begun. Darkness has lost its legs and become a heavy and incoherent mass. And it is getting cold. I really should put a jacket on. I had looked at heaters today, but had no idea which to buy. I imagined not buying a heater at all. None of my friends would come around. I’d be wrapped up in warm jumpers all winter long – a huddled, stupid, lonely thing. But still I am disturbed by the light. I am concerned that nothing will happen at all, that there will be no coming of winter, that everything has come to a halt this insignificant night.