But gloomy skies have something to give in this part of the city, too. Like for example, a reason to walk with head lowered, a pedestrian careful not to walk on deep puddles.
Or, a reason to sleep early.
Or, a reason to wear brown. And black.
Better yet, a reason to hug one's self in layers and layers of clothing, a walking body heavy with the weight of damp, long-sleeved tops.
It's my month of 2006's leftovers.
People came and went. Mostly went. Men who need some time off to climb the mountains and spend time in recluse before coming back down stripped off of whatever baggage they were carrying. Sisters who will never give you their trust because 'you will never grow up, can't even fix your closet and can't even arrange your books and papers.' Fathers who will always have to leave, that seeing-off-at-the-airport that perpetually signals the end of the holidays.
I'd like to think that this isn't sadness. It's only that dim-lighted Christmas tree, blinking slowly while everyone else is asleep.