Bokelskere.no

Outside the bedroom window, the sky is growing dark. Unlike the first day of summer, the last day of the holidays is not crammed with potential. It does not taste of ice creams or smell of cut grass and sunshine. If the first day of summer is all about hope then the last day is filled with gloom. And it knows it. The rain lashes down against the glass and, if she peers hard enough through the eyeholes of the mask that she is wearing, she can see her own reflection gazing back at her, the raindrops on the outside of the window mimicking the tears that trickling silently down her cheeks.