Every morning when I wake up, I look at the curtains that conceal my window. If I pull them back, what will I see? Will it be rays of sunshine? Or blasts of electricity and dangerous winds? Will it be a joyous neighborhood? Or will there be no sign of life?

But every morning, I choose to keep the curtains closed.

Every morning, I fantasize about how it would feel to have those rays shine onto my skin. I fantasize about how it would feel to see so many happy people. I imagine what it would be like to be happy like them.

Every morning, I wonder what the trees outside would look like. What color would they be? Will they be spring trees: a loving pink and white? Or possibly summer trees: vivid with vegetation? Or maybe autumn trees: warm like fire? Or perhaps winter trees: glowing with snow?

But every morning, I leave that to only be a wonder.

Every morning, I listen for any signs that maybe this could be the day. That this could be the day that I pull back the curtains. That this could be the day that there will be sunshine.

Every morning, I listen for the chirp of the birds, for the giggles of children, or the yips and barks of puppies.

Every morning, I wake up, hoping to see a glimpse of hope shining between the curtains.

But every morning, the mystery is left unsolved.