Today I woke up at 6:50 because my arms were numb and I couldn't unnumb them. I went out; it was cloudy but not dark, cold and quiet. I walked into the neighborhood next to ours and saw roses, red and velvety, bushes trimmed into shapes of mirrors, and houses that looked like stacks of cake, piled high. The driveways were in marble tiles, vanilla; not a single one was cracked. I saw a pot of sleeping petunias, and I came upon a willow tree, weeping leaves brushing the marble like dripping trails of yellow-green tears. I walked back to our street, and looked at the oak, growing sideways, uprooting the concrete of the street, littering tiny yellow leaves on all of the roofs. I looked at the lopsided chicken wire that stood between each house, and I looked at the waving yellow-brown weeds; so many, it looked like a field of wheat, and I looked at the driveways, of pounded dirt, concrete, or cracked linoleum tiles. I walked back to my house, feeling sullen and puckered like a sour grape, and went to class with all of my classmates who lived in houses that looked like stacks of cake.