thinking

rite poems about. No, this is sharp. Persistent. Like a pebble in your sh

st

houldn't have this much space in my head after on

ust what he said.

clatter of cups at the café where I work part-time. I s

won't go back

ere anyway

hich makes me hate m

lready

e the city below doesn't exist. He looks... peaceful. Th

s eyes when

might chicken

. Stil

kes sense. And it do

im, a little more c

ain this strange rhythm we've fallen

ou," I say a

yebrow. "Find

name and a six-year-

I w

cond. You lo

. "Sounds a

like this?" I as

en I wan

d n

en't d

der tonight. Cars honk like argumen

you do?

id becoming so

t a job

full-t

're succ

t da

scares me?" I ask, not waiting for permission. "

the last person who co

ay tha

it tomorr

ts in my stomach. Wa

him. "

ause you're all edge and softness at the

c," I sa

darker behind it. "Not trying to

" I snap. "It

s the

onstant push-pull. I'm starting to

on't want to admi

say. "Something you'v

he cigarette his

roy things on p

asual. They land between us li

"Then why c

ady. "Because I think you wan

p him. I sho

I say, "M

at follows isn't q

s voice. His face. The way he looked at me like

self it's

h slips in w

eady ob