Entry 9

November 30th

17 floors stand between me and the city below. I seem to find myself forever just out of reach of the rest of the world. Tonight, the sky is alight with puffs of lavender against a ceiling of smoky indigo. The first stars glimmer like diamond freckles in the places where the darkness sweeps in. Like a ghost, the moon haunts behind the clouds. My breath comes out in little smoke stacks, my vision a wet blur. I wipe my sleeve across my face, taking the rain stuck in my lashes with it. As the sun finishes its descent and takes the last day of November with it, the moon rises, and with it comes first snowfall. I hear it before I see it. The hard smack of rain turns softer and softer, until all I can hear is the soft whistle of the wind. If I closed my eyes, it could almost be a clear night, save for the precipitation adorning my face in fresh sheets. Within minutes, the bustle is blanketed in the silence that snow brings. Footsteps are erased in moments, the rainbow of the city is muffled into a singular shade of white, and the world holds its breath.