It is a cold, dreary morning, all gray and gloomy. The sky is overcast, and it seems it’s about to rain. Black lightposts line the sidewalks at regular intervals, accentuating the emptiness of the street, mocking my solitude. The gray sidewalk is lined with sleet. The cold is nearly unbearable, biting and stabbing with its winds, causing uncontrollable shivers despite my jacket. All around there is a feeling of emptiness. Nobody is out this morning, no cars, no traffic to be heard even in the distance. I shudder and hunch deeper down into my jacket.

I look up, startled by the sound of several doors opening one after the other. Out of these doors, the doors of nearly all the houses on the block, people come out, dressed in gray and black and as mournful as the morning. Behind them, strangely enough, the inside of the houses are unlit, seemingly a mere extension of the depressed day. The people, apparently unaffected by the cold, stand out on the sidewalk, heads down, with their arms by their sides. They do not move. It is a cold, dreary morning, all gray and gloomy. The sky is overcast, and it seems it’s about to rain. People line the sidewalks at regular intervals, but despite them the general air is of solitude. They seem unaffected by their surroundings, oblivious to the world around them.

I think, am I the only one?