An apathetic mixture of white and grey covered the Sunday afternoon sky. The air was calm and the leaves on the winter trees struggled desperately to dance in the weak intermittent breeze. They appeared to hang low, their faces away from the depressing sky as if to shield themselves from the sadness of the day.
The girl sat watching all this through the dirty windows on her dark bedroom wall. She watched these trees with a deep feeling of empathy. “I understand,” her thoughts projected to these trees barely moving outside. Although she knew she understood, that was all she knew. She didn’t know why she understood, and she certainly didn’t know why she should understand, for she had just experienced a few lovely days. She didn’t want to think too much about these last few days, but she accepted that they were there, and she would keep them in her memory for later. Perhaps she didn’t want to think about them as she was afraid that they were all she was going to have. She didn’t want to have to live through them forever. Instead she wanted to put them away and continue life.
The girl lay back on her bed and turned her attention to the few speckles of black on her bedroom ceiling. What were these speckles of back? Dust? Dirt? Spider eggs? She couldn’t tell. Nor could she tell what she was feeling or why she was feeling that way. She was confused. She wasn’t quite happy, but she wasn’t quite sad. I guess she was a bit of a mixture; she was an apathetic mixture. She wasn’t quite white, nor quite grey. Instead she was the sky of the uneventful day.