Some early mornings I wake
and I float up and out of my bed, out my open window and down the long
streets of the residential compound, the warm air from the tunnels lifting
me up. I float past the block buildings, all identical, and I drift through
their open windows and float above the people while they sleep, three
inches from their faces, feeling their warm breath come out from their
body into the room. I float there, watching their
eyelids flutter as they wince through dreams. |