The sun stretches its rays out, the sky turns into a light shade of blue, and my heart beats fast.
I walk the streets of a city that I once called home; only now, it is a stranger to me.
The morning is darker than usual. Maybe the sun hasn't completely risen yet, I tell myself.
I try not to remember all the memories I created in this hole. The ones full of life, happiness, and tears sometimes. Not because they're bad, but because I'm way over them; they're way too old.
I turn left and jog down the street, hoping I'd catch my then-favorite coffeeshop before it gets flooded with people - it was usually crowded on Saturday mornings, if I remember it right.
My Café au Lait tastes just how I've always liked it: bitter and dark. It brings the brightness back into my eyes, as I sit alone, thinking of the me I used to be, and the me I've become. I think of the ghostly figure walking all around the streets, unseen, but felt. The spirit that goes out, eats, drinks, but at the end of the day is still unacknowledged.
The air feels different. A spark that was once there isn't lighting how it used to. Some life returns to me, but not enough to keep me going through the day. I get up and walk some more, hoping that maybe amongst this place that I once called home, I'd find myself - again.
