And then a reversal.

I walked outside and it was warm and dark. The air was heavy, smelling of rain, recently evicted, and the low cloudcover dashed orange from the city lights hinted at nearby downpours waiting to pounce. There was slow but constant wind, rustling the leaves but hardly even touching my hair, leaving a slightly uncomfortable feeling of nervous intent.

I walked out onto the sidewalk, recently rain-soaked, and looked around. The world was closing in. It felt as though there was nobody else around; that I was alone in the city, just like a movie, with nobody to talk to, nothing to find, and something stalking around the darkness.

The orange glow of the city reflecting on the purple clouds left me desiring to find more, as I strolled off under the trees and through the wet grass to find something; anything.

I watched with disappointment as I saw myself wander aimlessly into the dark. I called out, but my voice was stolen in the wind, leaving nothing but rustling grass and my will to attempt an intervention. There was nothing that could be done. I paced back and forth on the porch, wishing I could have stopped myself from leaving, but I was far too talented at ignoring myself. I had to let me go.

I walked back inside, turned on the lights, and made soup. Broccoli and cheese fragrances lifted from the pan, as the gracefully potent tones of 'I Choose Noise' drifted from the stereo in the living room. The rain picked up in perfect timing with the climax of the song in a fit of coincidence.

The soup finished, and I sat softly on the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table, enjoying the rain, but missing the interaction. The lighting in the room seemed to fade, if only due to my inattentiveness, staring out the window at nothing and everything. The soup grew cold, the music repeated, the thoughts remained, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door, and walked into the house, rain soaking my clothes, almost down to my bones. Water puddles formed where my feet had been as I walked to the bathroom, stood in the tub and stripped down, donned a towel, and went to make soup. The stove was strangely warm as I prepared the nights banquet.

I sat on the couch, turned on the tv and pulled up the newest episode of "The Office". I sat and enjoyed my soup, and the show, laughed at Jim, felt bad for Toby, wanted to strangle Michael, and fell asleep with the series on 'repeat'.

I awoke to the sound of Josh running down the stairs, and the sun shining through the blinds, ironically causing me to squint. I smiled as Josh walked by in his long underwear, and felt oddly happy, as if I had spent the evening with a friend.

I felt at home.