The screaming woman
Every morning I wake to the sound of her calling out into the dawn as if she's screaming at the sun for rising, for casting light on her pain and confronting her with the day.
She cries out just once, in one breath, stood in her back garden still in her pajamas. As if just one turn of the tap has released the demons of the night and then she can get on with her day.
The whole street hears her but no one mentions it as she walks to work just like everyone else. Everyone acts like they don't know and underneath aren't a little but scared of the demons she holds inside.
Though of course what they are really scared of is her capacity to release them, as we all wake up with the demons from our dreams and go about our day as if we don't want to scream inside.