The sounds of glass being thrown, crashing, turning into smithereens of the desert, stabs into my ears like a dagger. My shaky hands wildly throw themselves onto both sides of my head, clamping and clawing at my ears in desperation. There isn’t a moment to think, just to simply toss yourself into what could be the pit of the end or the continuation of spring, none of which sound too enthralling to...

I hear the soft sound of a whistle, it is distant, almost as if its like the wind passing by the woods. Yet, my gut tells me not to listen to that thought as I bring the lukewarm tea cup from my now wettened lips to the countertop as my eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow. I am alert and aware of it all surrounding me. I can feel myself flinch and dart my eyes as any little mild creak whines through t...