Sherbet

That’s the color of the sunset. Sherbet spread across the sky, mirrored on the water. Gentle waves created by floating ducks interrupt the still water.

First the burning was down south. Two nights ago the smoke rolled into Seattle like a fog bank, noxious. We closed our windows. The cats slept at the bottom of my bed; I curled my body so as not to disturb them. I didn’t sleep well. I’ve been having nightmares. I don’t remember much about them except wanting to wake up, not being able to. I turned my fan on high.

For four days before the smoke I watched Ozark. I didn’t want to do anything else. I told myself I needed a break. I guess I did.