Requiem

I awoke this morning feeling as if my hair had grown grey and my eyes ashen blue. I started to a world stilled for a moment. I had a sense of a lament growing, a plaint, low and clear like the moan of a ship’s hull, waves breaking and battering it in a storm; the sound, sadness for strength stretched too far. Taken by the feeling that any noise would be a requiem, I remained silent and cold, rolling over to Chloe to fall back to sleep.

I don’t like when I wake up that way.