9.6

I watched the wind tear needles from the pines, today. They tapped against the glass inaudibly, a golden cascade of thin light flecks. I was alone, inside, with no reason to stay, but I just didn't walk out. When it's that beautiful moment outside, and I'm in this husk of a house, I question myself. Yet the door stood closed, handle unturned. My shoes will never get the adventure they deserve.