Outside

My office has no windows. No natural light, no link to the outside world. In here, it is always fluorescent, always 68 degrees, always artificial.

I imagine that outside is a tempest, a blizzard, a sandstorm, an alien invasion. The sky may be pink and the street turned to lava. From in here, outside could be anywhere.

Every time I leave, I am always vaguely relieved that the world is still how I remember it.