It was in that morning.
At the crack of dawn, she rose up from bed unable to bear the inconsequential lying anymore. Sleep had barren her like rain does to a land too devoted in it's sunny rendezvous. She climbed upto the rooftop. The sun was still an infantile globoid of vermillion gracing the dark sky as if it were the parting of an Indian woman's hair. Lights still glowed on aloof distant buildings visible despite the fog. She saw a pigeon bossing around another and ravens that had risen from their slumber to the joy of hovering amidst the clouds. But no sign of human could be traced. No cool winds swept past. No coos or barks or mews were heard save for an isolated crow's melancholic rendition.
As if the world had come to a standstill around her. She stood alone, basking in the glory of the dawn for sometime. And then like nothing at all it came rushing to settle on her like stubborn dust.
In that moment, that day, propped on that makeshift sofa she had designed for her friends who never came by, she realized that people didn't matter to her anymore. She didn't knew if strong was indeed the right word but, certainly she had grown into something different. Someone she never willed to become ever in this lifetime.
And as soothing as it sounds, in all reality, it scared her off her wits...