The events of one day give way to the routine slow suffocation of unexceptional life, and my days return to their laggard, uniform pulsation of complacent content. With the weather so cold, that the house is deliciously warm, conditions are ideal for a drowsy stupor to steal upon my consious. An unheard whisper sets the cadence of my heart and I curl up as a kitten to wrestle with repose. My heavy eyelids close and somehow, a small, secret smile steals across my face as I drift out of this inadequate existence.
Sadness... not overwhelming, not all consuming, but lately for me, even the happiest of thoughts, words, and songs, are tinged with a suspiring melancholy.