Outside the atmosphere is hot, bodies press into space. Hate drops on the floor, love waves hello from the counter where colorful things lie at a cost. Loneliness scrolls through a phone. Sadness stares vacant at a movie trailer playing on a large TV screen. Anger folds movie tickets into condensed pockets. There’s a city here…
Sometimes I go through her pictures on my phone, all taken during the Christmas break. Nudes mostly, some taken without her knowledge and others where she’s posing; on my bed, on the table, against the wall, her skinny body the colour of polished mahogany. Other times, I dream of us together again, in my bed, bodies intertwined, smoke from our cigarettes hovering above us. Whatever the hell we were, I still can’t place. We were just
I knew I would not mind if they gave me big ugly uniforms. I looked in the back and saw Common Entrance. He was not talking. I hated him less. Nothing special. Just the way a child hates a dead child less.