My hands were stained gray. I clapped them together, brushing him from me.
We will all join into the stew of life.
un truc plus dans mon sac en papier.
She was always underwhelmed by me.
I grab my own wrist reflexively. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m stupid, but fine. Everything will be okay.
This is the passing of time. Not in seconds but between extremes.
I have been the sum of joy.
Phil asks me if I like fish. I say yes. Why would I have ordered it if I did not like it.
And then—like they always do, when they realize you’re onto them—they start disappearing.