There was a strange feeling of abandonment in the wind. I could tell that she felt lonely; she grew teeth and decided to latch herself onto the pores of my bump-ridden skin.
She swept the metal chairs away, making space for the sparrows to throttle. Leftover papers tacked on the wall twitched to her cold strikes. Leaves scrambled on the ground. Collared dogs sprawled on the floor in a sorrowful slumber, letting out a tiny whimper as if defeated by the loneliness. The cow caricatures on the frozen yoghurt shop stopped smiling. Cars stopped in the middle of the street, and workers left their jackhammers to collect dust.
I have been told that I am not very good at noticing things. But that day, I noticed that the town I bonded with had decayed into a sinister stillness.