Mountain and Mist
All the paper work was done, the crazy rush was over, and I could now walk slowly. But I didn’t. It could’ve rained any second. It’s been misty and foggy all morning. Oh, how I miss the morning mist of these highlands! I looked to my right. Thrilled as one could be, almost got the goosebumps, as if I was seeing the view for the first time. Although I’d lived here for a long time. I used to live down this street, just a couple blocks away. My magical apartment and I, and the ATM machine up the street where I paid rent through it the whole time I was unemployed. I’d seen this view many times before, but my eyes had never sent the right signal to my brain. I’d simply turned my head around, looking for something more interesting than the view of a mountain in the distance. Perhaps I was taking that for granted, thinking that it’d be there tomorrow anyway. And the next day, and the day after. Every day would be different, I should’ve known better. The mountain beyond the city, covered in white mist and dark blue clouds barely holding the rain. Everything about the view was comforting and enjoyable. This street suits its name perfectly right.
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