It is a strange mood that envelopes, descends like an unexpected mist on a clear Wednesday afternoon, forces groping and the search for ancient flashlights many years discarded. A total swamping, like a home invasion of a home when you are home alone, yet this is a rare occurrence.
It is the inexplicable lethargy that warns something is wrong, at first. The lack of desire to simply get out of bed. The greater lack of desire to mumble even the politest of greetings you are known for. The world beyond these car windows passing by in clichés, all freshness gone, to where no idea. No sounds register to make a difference, no faces are welcome moons in the motionless inertia of your planetary stillness.
So this is it. The stillness before the leap. The frightening silences amidst the endless chatter. The need for new vistas to distract from the thought of what must happen. To sit on a park bench with a little stream under a tree watching tadpoles, not thinking, back to the busy road with zooming vehicles, getting away.