This is the first day in a very long time that I have risen from bed without a headache.
I feel light today like the sweaty-palm lightheadedness of the first conversation with someone with whom you've always desired simpatico.
In that lightness, however, my memory is shorter than a moment--my adrenaline pushes away reality, and I am left with the pit-patt-patter of a very nervous, shy heart.
This lightness, today, is full of memory, and I would almost describe myself as happy, but I am cautious of jinxing the rest of the day, still hours remain.
It is flashbulb white outside this high-rise window, and the rain's sprinkles turn sideways in the wind. The harbor crescendos and decrescendos in small, choppy scales. Its color, predictably, is black-blue, or mirrored grey, or bruised without purple.