I went and stood in front of your house in Google Earth.
Not for the purpose of wallowing, I was actually looking for reference. But.
I didn’t anticipate the pain of standing there as though for real looking at the doors and windows I know so well but jot being able to touch it.
I’ve been thinking about that a lot today, and about you.
As per usual.
I suddenly feel unbelievably, unreasonably tired. Everything about me is heavy, and a cigarette tip slowly burns a hole in my belly. I can see the smoke rise in the darkness, curling into wisping shapes before sliding silently through the ceiling.
And I know that I won’t sleep for a long while.