Dolly is trying to get under the covers. Its snowing outside and the sky is gray. Bare branches are waving outside my window. I do not feel like going for a walk today. This is my room for two more nights. High ceilings, concrete on 3 sides, straw/mud combo wall on one side - the side with the window, Ikea stackable closet. 3 hanging lightbulbs in a row, casting snowflake shadows, in line with the entrance - each with a beaded covering my landlord brought back from Africa specifically for these 3 naked bulbs in this rental. Now the fixtures couldn't be more hip. Wendy's painting is still hanging in line with the lights and above my bed - its been in every room I've been in Santa Fe - yellow, orange, purple, indigo, sunset. I've probably mentioned it before. I have a chair for a bedside table now, having sold almost all of my excess belongings. It is good to purge.
I'm writing with a "Santa Fe Mountain Sports" pen I picked up from my desk. Its not mine and I don't know where it came from.
The space is still and quiet. Its holding its breath like I am. Until a gust of wind comes by or a solitary car passes. Or Dolly snuffles in her sleep. I listen to the running of my laptop and sigh out.
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