vapor trails


Back where I’d woken up, nothing seemed familiar, except for the plume of air that slowly exited my mouth and cut across the one small patch of light in the room that escaped through a crack in the thick curtains just above my head. I’d seen that plume before, on chilly winter mornings as a kid when I played outside, or when I sat on a chairlift night skiing with my friends from school. I knew I’d seen that white vapor before, but in the weird bed in unfamiliar room that I woke up in, I wondered if it was really my breath that was making that vapor trail, was it that cold in the room that my breath would make a white coke trail across the room much like a airplane would crossing high above in the freezing winter sky?

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