“Take a seat, on a soggy and drenched bench, in the middle of the night, just, out of spite.” Gun Roswell
Seated in the middle of the foggy night
The night ahead long and dreary, as was the path of walking home, as the only option due to a slight misunderstanding now the arduous task, which could a long while last, and the cold rain and hard winds, certainly did nothing to aid the progress of getting there quickly and safely. But, as there really were no other options left, except, perhaps to curl up in a fetal position and cry, then try to move ahead seemed to be the logical thing to be doing, in the middle of the night without too much fight in sight.
Just as the threading was becoming as tired and dreary, the power of the carrying limbs almost gone, and the readiness of giving up and curling into that tempted ball was all to think about, something out of the blue could I spot. A bench, under the trees, tucked safely under there, away from the storm and rain and the constant pain of the sore feet, as the wrong kind of footwear caused the stains not yet seen. But this respite appearing out of the blue, might just have been the saving place to do, some rethinking of the stupid plan of wandering off in the middle of the night, and so without any fight, I decided to stay on the bench and wait for the inevitable sunrise.