There will come a time when things change. That’s silly, of course things change. But it will be mostly me altering the course of my tomorrows, and I’ll reaffirm how powerless Kismet is compared to my hands. And it’ll be white white Christmases, and snowflakes perched on the contours of my bedroom window, it’ll be late night walks slash musing blending in the crowd of faceless strangers with their fast-paced lives. I’ll not have my guards down, in case they’ll turn into horde of zombies and whatever. The city lights will join the rush, colliding in chaotic ooze. By then, I can walk you home, lend you my coat when the night air becomes biting cold. By then, I can pass the seasons in the comfort of your smile, by then, you won’t have to say goodnight while I am indulging in lazy morning yawns, just starting a new day.