at home

Lyrics:

© andi
The sweaty hand holds an almost brittle bottle that was at least a little cool.
He wasn't alone. Cockroaches were constantly scurrying back and forth

The light was dim, the curtains drawn.
It must be around noon, he thought.
He stretched himself off the sofa, went to the window an threw open
the curtains.
He narrowed his eyes and squinted down at the street.
Nobody was to be seen. No one.