...long slow strides dragging the nights into silent days.

Since you died, I notice the outside seeping in. There is the smell of damp in my chair. My skin hangs in loose bracelets of bark and my fingers scratch against my face like a branch walked into. A numbness is spreading up my cold ankles as my locked feet take root. The hands on my watch stand motionless as deer against the trees pulling away with long slow strides dragging the nights into silent days. I call out, like a startled jay clattering up through the canopy of leaves closing over me as I search the woodland paths for traces of you.

- Caroline Smith 'Metamorphosis'

She wrote it as a poem, but the line breaks felt arbitary and I think it works much better as prose.

Love, E.