morning things

The morning was so grey that even my coffee tasted like it had already been drunk once and reheated out of spite. The mist hung over the yard as if someone had forgotten to turn off a smoke machine, and the scent of birch wasn’t fresh at all… more like suspicious. I stepped outside for a cigarette and could’ve sworn I saw a shadow move. Nothing dramatic, more the kind of movement you see when you’ve been awake far too many hours. Then I heard it, a branch snapping. Not loud, just enough to let me know something or someone  was out there. For a moment I hoped it was the neighbour. But since the neighbour is scarier than anything the forest could produce, I decided not to look.