Not having much money, I am going to stay in this weekend. At the moment, I am listening to Sparks (but of course) and through the small windows of my apartment, the sky is a morose blue-gray, a retreating sort of color. Perhaps of the weathered armor in museums, or the quiet of a battlefield a hundred years after the battle. It is broken up by the flickering of branches. In the recent days, squirrels and crows have squawked and squealed near my window, startling me. I have two plums I need to eat. I don't even recall the last time I had a plum.