The dog alarm in life

The dog alarm

The sky leans enough towards earth to not fall down upon us every night. Such that, I can see through its smoke and mistake it for moon light. The kind of smoke that can't be fanned away, because it isn't. But it isn't too pure either. I simply can't breathe.

I have nothing more to say. I hum a tune that I don't remember, and it hums back. Such is the silence accompanied by agony, it reverbs across empty voids.

I hear a seven year old's voice in my head. She keeps insisting ‘Big cars don't lower the windows when stray dogs try to chase them.’ It's not a question, just a simple truth that she wants to fit into her puzzle piece. To quiet her, I bring some food for the dogs without letting them whiff my misery.

I see everyone run away when it starts to rain, except the ones who have nowhere to go and the ones who think they can't catch a runny nose. The constant chit-chat between water molecules annoys me. I laugh at myself, and then at the Tic -tac- toe drawn on the ground, eventually pain will dissipate in ‘x’ amount of time. And if it doesn't, we will have to open the flood gates. They declared.

I wish no one could see me, with the look on my face being that of someone who won't flap their hands before drowning. The person from the street across who is patiently waiting for me to go back home doesn't know why I want to go home. To keep thinking of the things I need to do. I should just pull the clothes off the hanger and breathe a little. The view before me, that of greys and blues, would engulf my scream, translating my void into thunder while the peacock sings and dances. I might try again tomorrow. Today, I won't be picked off from the street.

The child continues to question, ‘Why do dogs bark when they sense you in pain?’ and when I can't find her an answer she laughs from within me. ‘Maybe they know they can't stop it, but they are aware of the alarm system.'