I pulled the latch and pushed the door back: it gave easily with a dull hum as it moved down its old, grimy metal track. As soon as I stepped out onto the cold wooden porch, I could feel the cool night air surrounding my body, and clinging hopefully to my warm skin. I took a deep breath as I placed my hands atop the old painted wood railing and leaned into it as I looked out at the darkened landscape around me.
Headlights flickered through the distant trees and lit up my face in flashes as they drove by what they cannot see. It doesn't seem to matter how long I spend in this place: the place I longed for as a child; one step closer to the place I yearn to call my home. It doesn't seem to matter how many hours go by, or how many people say hello, I always feel like I am in a dream; like I don't belong, or fit in, and that at any moment, I'm going to suddenly open my eyes in my darkened room back at home, the time I spent here quickly fading from my memory as I slowly realize that I had never truly left.
No matter what, I still feel as cold and distant as the night air and headlights that blindly reach out to me with no comfort to offer.
If you want to get in touch with me via telephone, just click this link and call me -- it goes straight to my phone, and if i can't answer, just leave a message. :D
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