Mood Piece January 9 2018

The sign said Windows and Doors. She supposed they had to come from somewhere, someone out there was making these things, but somehow it seemed strange to see a place that sold functional holes in the wall. Like a theater that specialized in coordinated silence or,

She was reaching. She had been sitting on the curb staring at the storefront for at least an hour, willing it to become meaningful. Some part of her needed that strange sign to suddenly become profound, to stoke some sort of quasi-philosophical realization in her. She wanted it to become something she could look at and say “Now I get it, it’s been that the whole time.” But the building stood there, stubbornly mundane. Sitting crouched against the chill she ran her fingers absentmindedly across the folded up picture in her coat pocket. The one she never looked at anymore. The one she never went without. It had become something she didn’t even think about, or at least not often. It had become reflexive. Instead she thought about windows, and she thought about doors, and she tried very hard not to think about locks or keys.