I

I was laying in the bookshop's attic, with a book on my beating chest and watching through the thin window's glass the infinite sky that was passed by millions of clouds. They were sliding from left to right, making multiple layers of tones of white. At the begining they were white, pure, perfect, and as the time went by, they were turning grey, scaling slowly to darker tones. Then came the rain, shortly but promptly that eventually washed all the sad colors. At last, they went back to white, pure, but not that perfect. It was then when I realised life was like the sky. Challenging and filled up with true, pure experiences as we go through it. I closed my eyes and turn my head to the right, he wasn't there anymore, but I stayed. I chose to remain myself, not to change for just a dark cloud in my life.