The start of something not-so-new.

Tinted windows are swung open hastily, forming acute angles with smooth wooden panes. Not far in the background, hues of green mask a critter - or two - screeching insouciantly, creating fissures in the brittle afternoon air like thin cracks on a slab of dark chocolate. Oh how bittersweet.

In the horizon, rain clouds hang threateningly, in a fashion not unlike that of overzealous bullies; only too ready to dampen, to crush, to destroy. And lording over all of mankind, without which the world would be rendered absolutely hapless, a great fiery ball, its usual incandescence dulled by interpolated wisps of grey.

At last, this living mural is complete. Or is it?

But on this afternoon, the world is nothing more than a giant melting pot - colours, shapes, sizes, smells, sounds all rallying together to form a slush of delicate emotions, unwanted thoughts and hints of a strange annoyance.

As if right on cue, the pounding - or is it just in my head? - gets louder. Like a heartbeat, rhymthically, methodically, steadily. Faster, faster and faster yet.

I can't take this anymore.
(After all, it's nothing more than muscle mass no bigger than the size of my palm. Maybe that's all we amount to at the end of the day. Who knows. Who cares.)

and then,
silence,
silence,
silence.

And now I'm scared.