—Breathe Me
Soundtrack #1: Urban Decay
“No, I don’t have any cash, sorry,” I told the man in dark clothes with the bloody eyebrow. Why do I always walk this way? It’s not much shorter, and it’s certainly less scenic. Maybe I like the broken glass in the soles of my feet.
—-“I have been here many times before, hurt myself again today”—-
I can’t seem to concentrate on the man a foot or so away from me, yet the details of the past day are sharper than ever: a chilly swimming pool, the scents of timber and tiger lily, the snug and cozy eudaimonia. My glass had never been so full — it’s shattered now, its contents recklessly spattered on my hands.
—-“yeah, I think that I might break, I’ve lost myself again and I feel unsafe”—-
It’s just a little further. A random woman passes by now. The ends of her dress flip and swirl behind her creating a wake of changing color and shadow. Should she really be out here by herself at this time of night? Should I? My mind wanders back twenty minutes ago: “I’m staying with her tonight,” he said. My face blank, “are you dead serious?” “Yeah. I’ll be back in the morning.” But I would never see him again. Normally, betrayal and loss travel in separate cars, don’t they? I slide out of my rain jacket, throw it aside, kick off my shoes, pick up my pace, and run.
At the time, I didn’t know where I was running to, or from what. If I knew I’d have to scatter his ashes a month later, I would have ran back to that sweet-smelling apartment, banged on the door, and made love for the last time. But I ran the opposite direction, stopping for no beggar. The only real things: the tears stinging my eyes and the concrete sidewalk pounding under my feet.
—-”the worst part is there’s no one else to blame”—-
