mckhoii

Mist lay rested on the glass windows – a heavy shower must have poured down yesterday. The strati are seemingly so close that I could easily grab a bowlful. The vastness of the skies bedazzles me and I could hear them whisper serenity to the fierce waves within me. I notice a flock of birds fly in some distance below. I slowly roll my eyes down and I could see my shoes reflecting the sun’s routine amount of light. I change focus to the traffic beneath me and I swear I could see a small boy selling newspapers to a lot who are in a rush walking to whatever destination. The cars seem so small that I could seemingly use pincers to pick them up. They look as if they are noisy but I could hear nothing from where I am. I could only hear the bubbly sound of a giant aquarium and the gush of cold air coming out from the vents. I am jailed in a very capacious room called “The President’s Suite”. A prize for being my father’s son, the tallest building of the world served nothing more than my very own dungeon.

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