The Window

He looked at the condensation clinging to the single-glazed panes of glass that made up his bedroom window. Nothing and everything going through his head; an existential crisis in a sea of quiet. The water droplets stayed fixed; immovable. Time passed in lurches; inconceivable units of intangible nothingness. He found it hard to believe that he was the same person as 10 years before. His body made from entirely new cells; his mind filled with toxic reality. He thought back to when fiction caused him more fear than the real world. Now, he lamented, the scariest monsters sit in high-backed chairs around the globe, not slow to dig their claws into the world and hear it scream. His head was screaming now. A drop of water rolled down a window pane. A few more followed. A clock chimed twice. He sighed.