the night falls, and so does her. she gets into bed and crawls straight to the sheets on, between, under the thin layer of the heavy solitude, hearing the defeaning sound of silence; hearing the whispers of life leaving.
the absence of light as a state of comfort was very sugesting, she wished it to stay for good calm, timid, flirtatious, unreadable so inviting.
the rain wakes her up abruptly form her desire from her plans to fulfill dreams... rain drops hope because it doesn't want to stay up there, it has to flush creating stalled liquid and a kid splash it barefoot, naive rushed about tomorrow not knowing that it means. smash to dissipate craked, shattered, water becoming future, water becoming nothing.
a soft but noticeable sneeze of wind pass throught the window not asking for permission but convinced about cover everything sinking into every inch of space. there comes sharp the smell of old wood and fresh black dirt. dawn is not allowed, not this thime.
death sits in the corner of the bed to read a story about Mara, and then oblivion kisses her goodnight.