Sunlight settles on the open book and lingers. Pencil in hand, I unfold the corner I'd turned down.

Refill

I watch the bus pull in, and still my eyes don't go back to the screen. The cup is so warm I can't let go of it.

Afternoon by the Window

The mug is still warm. Standing by the window wrapped in a blanket, the sun reaches my toes. The blanket stays folded, and the room remains autumn.

The Smell of Dry Grass

Every time your four paws step on dry grass, it rustles. Following that sound, step by step, you are walking into the morning.

First Snowflake

Where you lingered at the window and left, a single snowflake came down and touched the glass. I watch for as long as it takes to disappear.

Water Bowl

The midday sun drew a round patch of light on the ground. The water in the bowl had gone down a little. It was the place where someone's day had passed by half a day or so. Looking at the bowl, I thought of the shade where the cat's throat would have moved as it drank. That house has never opened its door to me, but in front of it, someone's day is always alive.