A lizard crawls along the hot pavement and drinks the sky in quick flickering laps. Greedy is okay today. No humans are outside, and the sky is big enough to fill her stomach many times over.
The light is too hot for the palm trees, so the wind cools it. Deep focused breaths of crisp air rattling their fronds. There's no wind on the ground. The temperature of the light is just right for those of us who can move our slumberous bodies.
My own body hasn't even gone outside. From the second floor, I press myself against the window and watch the streets. They are still, steady, sunbasked, gossiping with the clouds. They can whisper today because the sounds of engines and footsteps are gone.
My entire apartment is filled with light, and I see dust bunnies in a corner just swept. How many other things hide in the cover of darkness, surviving our reaches and work? There is no hiding in my home. It fishtanks out into a bustling city, and if anything was a secret before the morning came, it wouldn't be now.
On the rooftop of a shop across the way, a bird lands. His mouth opens wide and he eats at the sun, gulping it into his belly. He watches me the whole time, and then flies away without ever saying hello. I do not know what type of bird he is. I wonder if he knew what type of human I am.
I wonder if I know.
Discover prompt: Light. In allegiance with AprilCheerPepper efforts.
