buddhakat9

      Slish, slosh, splash.      The early morning sound of rain swishing through the streets traveled up and through the crack of the window, left open by Wilson last night to cool off the warm apartment. Unlike usual mornings there was no bread cooking in the toaster or water boiling for coffee, no, this morning was quieter, darker, elusive.      Slish, slosh, splash.      Wilson turned to his side again, the bed creaking underneath him softly.   Unable to take it any longer, Wilson opened his eyes and stared at the clock blankly. The night had been yet another restless sleep, where Wilson turned and turned but to no avail.      He