Misty Morning

It was a misty morning. He had loved misty mornings from his childhood. He felt so alive as if he was a bird flying majestically in the deep blue sky.

But how did this happen? There was something wrong; the incongruity was glaring at him but he could not figure out what it was.

He was moving through air, through walls, through trees, in fact through everything without the slightest hindrance. And there was his wife. She was not as tense and distraught as she used to be. But he could feel the silent tears rolling down her tired cheeks.

And then he was shocked to see himself, lying in that cold and heartless bed; but no longer joined to the ever humming and ticking machines.

He was at last free and alive on this misty morning.

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A post for Three Word Wednesday

Word prompts- Misty, Alive, Glaring