This morning I woke up and felt like I'd been dropped into the pages of a Stephen King novel. The air is still, as if the wind is holding its breath. There's a gray sheath wrapped around everything, muffling sound. I find myself banging the dirty dishes and slamming cabinets just to fill the emptiness.
Out of the corner of my eye I keep catching a glimpse of a tall, dark figure. I spin around and it's only my husband's dresser. Wait! I spin again and it's just the vacuum cleaner I left out the night before. Still, I can't help feeling like I'm being watched. I scurry out to the sidewalk to drop off my recycling and slip back into the house again. The street is empty and quiet.
Now, at last, rain is falling. This is a good day for writing about the Fix.
That dream I had this morning about the giant sea horses that crawled out of the ocean (a bit like alligators) and began eating everyone, probably didn't help my mood. Trust me, those things were terrifying.