the thoughts of the soulless

I stood on the porch of my cabin in Winterspring. Little did I care for company. The incessant ramblings of the voices coming through my com would normally have driven me to turn it off.

I merely tuned it out instead.

The snow drifted down from the sky lazily, as if it didn't care about anything, as if it weren't in a rush at all. I felt like the snow. I had no cares. My hands rested on the railing of the porch, looking out over the woods. They were blanketed in white. I never really noticed the quiet that comes with snow. As if it sedates and drowns out everything it touches.