to be so lonely • hs

thirty six

I stared out the window, hands resting on my crossed arms as I let out a sigh. The sun was nearly setting, a golden colour pouring in over my skin and the small window ledge I was leaning against.

There were tall buildings and I didn't dare question London's beauty, but I found myself uninspired with my pen grasped between my closed palm and the empty list beside me.

A few minutes had passed, and with the event of the sun setting, all I'd managed to write down was 'afterglow?' upon noticing the way the sky glowed a deep blue after the sun had left. I wasn't sure what to do with it, and it didn't give me much, other than a short timeframe to work within.

Nothing had required me to push myself for new ideas, and all the client work for the next few weeks already had solid plans. But still, I felt defeated when it came to creating things for myself— allowing myself full direction. I didn't know where I wanted to move forward after the last project, Colourful Silence. I wanted to recreate it one hundred times over, while simultaneously creating something one thousand times better. But I simply felt stuck, and had been for the past week.

Frustrated, I set the pen and paper down and turned away from where I'd been sat on the chair for over an hour. If I was completely honest, I was startled by his presence on the settee after being so immersed in what was going on beyond the window.

He quickly lifted his head due to my sudden movement, something neither of us had done in quite a while, and I wondered if he'd forgotten that I was here as well.

"Sorry." I apologized quietly. It felt odd to bring a sound other than silence into the room.

"It's alright." Harry smiled. He finished typing something out onto the laptop on his lap, then returned back to me. "Do you have something?"

"I have nothing." I sighed, my back and shoulders practically melting into the seat.

He frowned as he leaned his head back as well, looking past me and out of the window behind me. A view he was quite familiar with, as it was a window inside his own living area. I watched as his eyes searched the window, one he'd looked out hundreds of times before.

"Give it a few minutes longer. The city changes at night—maybe you'll find it then." He suggested.

I nodded, "You're probably right. Would you mind if I had a glass of water first?" I asked him, standing to make my way to the cupboards when he said he didn't mind.

As I poured the glass, I leaned against the countertop and gazed upon the refrigerator yet again. I was plastered the last time I looked, but from what I could recall, everything was about the same. The photo of Gemma and himself, an updated grocery list, a Thank You card, and some loose magnets.

I quickly drank it and went back to where Harry was, the glow from his laptop casting over his face and hands, a deep concentration into whatever it was he was typing.

Returning to my previous position on the chair, I leaned my chest against the backrest and placed my arms over the top, resting my chin against them as I took to observing the view at a different time of day.

At first, nothing had changed much when it came to finding something inspiring. Everything was in the same position, of course, just darker. My eyes traced the skyline created by the piles of buildings and distracted themselves by going out of focus. The lights changed when they did that, and the dots of light melted together into large glowing beams. But they were just the same old lights when my eyes refocused.

I reached to open the window slightly to allow in some breeze and ambiance, finding that the silence wasn't helping much either.

I watched as cars drove past and people walked by on calls or with dogs, or were out on runs. People fascinated me completely, I'd managed to build my art around people for years, but still as I watched, I had nothing.