4:25

snowsnow94
Aug 28, 2025
1 min read

Alcohol thrums in my head, splashing the night with shimmering pearlescent hues. Yes… this summer is clearly intent on leaving its sparkling mark both in the album of memory and in my very body.

I fly on heels across asphalt painted pink by streetlamps, as if I were gliding in soft socks.

My hair is whipped wild by the fierce July wind. We talk about everything in the world — from the history of old Russia to the intimate secrets of those who sees us off.

The asphalt flows beneath my heels like conveyor lines producing the sweet fragrance of fresh rain. For some reason, all I want is to smile and rush forward, chasing that restless, mischievous wind. Somewhere beyond the crimson-ultramarine horizon patched with cotton clouds.

The city is deserted. No screech of brakes, no rustle of wandering plastic bags. Silence has devoured it whole, gnawing the concrete bones of its buildings down to the marrow, leaving not a single sound for dessert.

I return to my own “gnawed” home. I am greeted by the hum of the refrigerator and the sorrowful rustling of curtains on the open balcony. I settle into my favorite corner with a glass of wine and watch another night exhaust its charm.

The world dissolves, and I am left only with quiet thoughts of the future — and scarlet threads of dawn stretching across the horizon.

Farewell, night. We never got to know each other.