Lingering at Midday

Walking after lunch, that person suddenly came to mind. Though the sun stood high at midday, strangely my heart alone felt like overcast weather. I take out an old card. My fingertips rest on the half-faded writing. Words never sent, feelings folded away, quietly crumble in the sunlight. I wonder if that person is eating somewhere right about now. Or, like me, walking a street and stopping to look up at a sky that means nothing at all. I'm still here. While the warmth of midday touches my shoulders, it seems fine to linger like this a little longer.