UNDER THE MOONLIGHT

The aroma of coffee triggers memory stronger than any other senses. The old bitter smell stopped when I locked the door with a tiny silver padlock and untying my green apron to put it into my bag. My whole body was burnt out from brewing the whole day. Faking smiles to some of the bullshits I had to endure throughout the day was not easy too.

I stepped slowly under the clear night sky with the help from the bright yellow moon. I sharply inhale the nicotine as I lit the cylinder roll in between my lips. A burnt popcorn, was how it taste like. My throat radiated the sensation of heat, forward and backward in the space where I stood. I pulled in more smoke, and blow it back to the cold wind on my face. I looked around to see if anyone were at the parking lot, half hoping they were watching me. The light of the world simply fell on me, soluble and absolute. I was a little high, like all the other highs I know. Savoring the glacial cool in my mouth and the burn in my chest, I walked extra slow to my car.

“anxiety is a rushed into my bloodstream,
a hole to the mind waiting for its redeem,
a disease in disguise that will randomly ring, 

screaming through the night with demons on a pairing.”

            Marked 1AM, 2017, I entered the cranky grey. Windows down and I amplified the electric radio, finding shows playing all the request from the lovers strung out across the wide night. I enjoyed feeling I was at heart of some strange convergence, a meeting between the natural and the man-made, the land and the stunner of the night sky, the radio and this automobile spinning along the roads. In between silence and screaming, I focused upon the pressure of the steering wheel beneath my fingertips, the tug between clutch and accelerator and the glide from third to fourth. The night set me free, was what I feel.

            As I passed through the odd street light, I followed the roads I had known all my life. The houses stood silent and sturdy with the windows curtain closed, as hushed and peaceful as familiar friend asleep. I continued to drive through the cold silent empty night. Some of the days I could listen to a baby crying, couple squalling or just a loud TV. Strangely, front gardens are appealing to look at night. The garden fences and their neatness, rockeries and gnomes, the tidy stand of daffodils and how primly paved their paths were.

            Trees dancing in the wind and giving the wide area a living. The sweet night air will never give me boring. Upon reaching my ends meet, I let out a sigh of relief. Pulling handbrakes as I halt to my perfect little bubble, a small world tucked away from this world madness. Treasured and protected as my own little secret.