HOME | DD

Description
I was alone in the big, somber house of ours on that day.
It was raining again, heavily this time. I could hear the drops falling on the roof, one by one, every one of it, and the wind was meddling into it with no respect at all. I listened to it for a while than I reached to the remote control of my music set and pressed play. Mr. Davis was in my room now, playing a sorrowful tune all by himself, it was one of his great solos. I did not want to wake up, though I did not want to lie in that cold bed either. I stared at the wooden ceiling, saw my sister’s drawings which she had drawn with a piece of coal, wondered where she had found it. There was a man looking at me awkwardly with long messy hair and with lips that seemed to me that wanted to smile but could not. But it is just a scrabble, I said to myself. Do not think about that too for God’s sake!
I got up and realized that I had that irritating headache, gently eating my brain. I ignored it as much as I could and walked to the window to see how it was outside. A shade of grey, blended with whites and blues, stroke me. Though I thought grey was pretty hot, it made me shiver. I sighed, made my way to kitchen. The ill shaped, design freak clock was showing three p.m. No breakfast today, I thought to myself. I grabbed a bottle of cold beer and a fistful of peanuts to accompany it. I took a book from the skewed shelf without even looking at it and sat near the window because the electricity had gone out, Mr. Davis was gone. I read a few pages. It was about a man turned into a magpie. Kafka did it better man, I said to the author like he could hear me. Than I laughed sardonically. How possibly could he hear me while it was not even possible for those near me listen to me but would not hear. The probability of the author’s hearing me seemed more possible at that moment. Then came my noxious friend for help. Bottoms up, he said. And the bottle was empty.
The sky was now crying loudly with her salient lightnings. There was no sense in sitting at this side of the window, so I took my camera and raincoat and went out. The shivering grey got bigger and bigger as I walked. The wind was much stronger and was like a wordless anthem, melting inside and freezing outside. The trees, the bushes, the benches, the roads, the sidewalks, the houses, the gardens, the world itself indeed, were blinking at me to take their photographs. I slumped there, on the road. Everything was so big and I was so small that I could not breathe at all. I started to cry. Then I felt it, my teardrops were on the fire of a confession now, trembling to fall but willing to get out of my restless soul. Trapped in between the opposite, chained by the neck. Then the rain came, with unruly and chaotic footsteps. It ruined the ongoing drama in my eyes and my soul, dissolved all the shame, washed all the pain away and gave me new, sweet breath.
I went home, Mr. Davis was now playing a merry tune and mum was preparing the dinner.
Life, I thought to myself, is something grey, I need to color.