the world below

Sitting at my freezing desk, looking out the second-story window at the night of the winter's first snow. The sidewalks are icing over, but the street is too traveled to be cold enough to freeze yet. There's a heightened police presence because of the inaugural stuff; a thousand motorcycles and squad cars make way for fleets of black SUVs and implacable otherworldly limos, forcing everyone else to a standstill so they can pass. Helicopters and sirens are making the windows rattle and it feels like we're under invisible attack. One day when I don't live here, I will remember that window rattle specifically, the view from this chair, the way light pools on wet streets, how there is more red than any other color.

I didn't watch any good-bad reality TV today, which may seem like a step up, but I'm weird and edgy and lonely and I can't call any of you because a potential new roommate is about to show up. I don't want a new roommate. I don't want to be waiting for something unrelated that I shouldn't even care about, and I am very much under the influence of Oh What's The Point.