just enough pathos

I was staring at scars some day last week. The woman caught me staring and shot me a glare. I looked away, ashamed.
This new found oldness is comforting, it lulls me to sleep every night. Long before dawn, insects gather at my feet, shadows dance on walls, and unaware, they don't frighten me.
Sometimes, I break the routine, listen to a new song, keep my desk cluttered. Sometimes, I smell your hair differently.