I walk in a red-haze fog down to the corner deli/cafe to order a toasted bagel. The air thickens with every step in sync with my mind finding words to write later when I return to my personal, one-bedroom Paisley Park.
A light ash dusts the ground and cars lining the street. The gooey scarlet sky grows dimmer as I watch the wet molecules flutter and push their way eastward. The birdsong diminishes into husky dark tones. We are all aware that something is amiss.
Today I won’t make my bed because I shall return to it often for a nap.