We're sitting, he's smoking. I'm drinking. But then he's drinking too. The smell is strangling yet comforting. The night is not quite warm enough, but I think of other warm nights, surrounded by burning sedative. The sprinklers dim from explosive fountain to light misting. The sidewalks have never been more satiated.
I'm not even really aware. I'm blissfully numb. Speaking, speaking without really thinking. The words come out liquid-y and slurry. Two people, separate. Alone together. He shows me pictures of Big Sur, and I smile and nod. The girl is cute.
Like much of life. Enjoying it, but feeling like it's just a motion.
We watch the world pass by.
I wake up, it's another day again.
"So you're going to be friends?"
I sigh. No, I thought. That wasn't exactly the plan. But I dread saying the next words.
"I just don't want him to hurt you again."
I know, I thought. Doesn't everyone.
Her words make my stomach sink a little bit.
I look at the little green dots, feeling alone again without really meaning to. People are there, I just can't feel them. Just beyond my reach. I wait for someone to reach out. No one does.
People come, people go. Life keeps moving past, silent in these moments, like the night. Once in a while I hear the ratchet of someone's bike pedals. The distance sound of wheels running along the road.
"You can count on me to misbehave."
~ Primadonna by Marina and the Diamonds
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