Lantern

The day wanted to be let in. So I opened the doors. It was early. The sun was a pale yellow thing screaming behind a veil of haze, barely audible. The cool wind entered like a curious visitor, like a wave, or the tentacles of an octopus stretching into corners, bouncing off them. Birds scrambled around and cups of tea found themselves on makeshift tables, on lawns and on benches. Slanting rays outlined thousands of tiny grooves on an old page. These furrows, invisible to the naked eye could be mountains to a smaller creature. The tiny particles of dust on the monitor glittered against the mellow light. I waited till the sprightly Funeral March ended.