I’m falling slipping, dripping, caught in a riptide, a sink hole. A whirlpool; an Ekman Spiral. I level my gaze on a horizon that sways. Your pain. My pain. A silent tug of war.
The hallway outside the apartment smells like onions and garlic. For the moment I feel excitement. Inside, it’s quiet. Only empty bottles and dirty dishes. A note: sorry I missed you. You know how it is. Hope you don’t mind… The acrid smell of a spent cigarette at the bottom of a glass. A small dandelion dangling on the edge of an empty beer bottle. So fragile. Too many wishes that don’t come true. I leave; walk, anywhere.