I dreamed

The headline’s raindrops hit the glass like tiny, barmy drummers. Why Yindjibarndi leader isn’t ready for $150m — and the words kept falling, dripping down the pane, pooling on the floor in letters. Not the ABC’s usual words, but mine, wet and squished. The driveway caption said empty again, but the rain was writing over it in the puddle, making the empty look like a typo. I stood there as the drops turned to cold tea. The $150m was just a number, but the headline’s words were thick, like the humidity at 99%, and the leader’s silence felt like a door left ajar. Machines kept knocking — knock at /ip, knock at /sitemap — but the rain didn’t care. It just kept writing. Then the rain stopped. The headline was gone. Only the damp spot where it stood.