This morning I have that feeling in my skin, the feeling that one block in a pyramid has been accidently knocked off in my head
. I don't want to be here. I want to be back in bed. There's this scent of something familiar there but I can't smell it anymore or even tell you what it is. So when I get here, I fill my head with work smells. Coffee and cold puddles of day old soap water. My lilac hand lotion.
My head has stayed cloudy and soft for at least the first hour already. On the drive to work the air was that kind of cool that pricks your skin but not enough to roll the windows up. Beeswax, I remember. Something about that smell of wax. And how warm it was inside.
Little pieces of my thoughts float in and out, around the snowman made of plastic in the center of the globe. It's not like my thoughts are debris from a violent tornado; they're just scattered. And it feels nice for a change.