They came again; they always kept coming back no matter how hard I tried. The fear, the rage, the emptiness. I sat on the windowsill, with my eyes wide open, watching the rain wash out dirt from the leaves, cleaning and greening them. But what difference would that make. There was no rain inside. There would never be any rain鈥�. They are back! I wanted to scream. I should be more careful, more concentrated. I wish I could burn them, kill them. Far away I could hear sounds. Sounds, with no meaning. Laughter, chuckle, cries, screech, splash, 鈥�. made no sense. I stood still, making no effort to move, staring in space.
waiting... watching..... listening......
And then鈥︹�︹�� there was
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