There was a day last year where the gray sky corrupted the whole town.

Where the windows reflected gray.

Where the eyes reflected gray.

Where the skin turned muted and cold. The weight of being awake crept to dark under eyes.

The fog kept one cold. The cold kept people in.

My friend and I climbed up to the tallest hill. we brought hot oat milk lattes.

We walked slowly through the mud. We didn’t talk that much.

I thanked god for giving me her, comfortable with silence.

And when we reached the top we entered heaven.

The world below was completely shielded from us. The sun was out. The birds were singing.

A thick fog blanket obstructed the view and I remember thinking it wouldn’t hurt if I jumped. But why would anyone jump from heaven?