What will it be like tomorrow? Tuesday? This Friday? In a month, a year, a decade? What will it all be like? This world...It's...
"It's beautiful..." the voice inside my head whispers, "...Will I be in it...?"
Night wind kissed my cheeks softly, and passed on by. I raised my brown orbs to the midnight sky, and stared. The moon looked like a pearl, shinning too brightly but, pleasantly. I sighed, and lowered my eyes. "Where are you..."
I stared into the cup of steaming tea at the reflection of a poor child. Her eyebrows were turned up in hurt, her eyes were slowly flooding with tears, and her face was tenting red. I placed my head on my arms, and started sobbing, queasing inhales and exhales churning my stomach.
"Where are you?" my mind wailed sadly, "Where...."
My head snapped up, a hand clamping over my mouth. The mug of tea shattered upon the balcony, it's contents spilling over the edge and through the cracks of the wood.
I rushed inside, letting dinner into the toilet violently. I coughed, slipping to the floor, my head on the seat. "Where...are you?"
I had evening sickness.