stayceited
I was distracted by the water droplets racing down the window panes. The sunlight had been gone for a while, but these drops seemed content with the notion of another day of grey. Who needs sunlight to be happy anyway? They connected, carrying themselves farther down the glass, gravity taking its course as my gaze was weighted with it.
Crouch. Crouch behind what? Crouch to hide? Crouch to escape? I find so much meaning in such a simple word. Maybe it's because I crouch behind metaphorical things daily.