I can taste you in the rain. It’s a clean sad feeling, looking up into endless gray and seeing no future. I’d like to think that I’m calm about this, but I’m hesitant. I can’t keep my eyes from lying when I’m not successfully hiding behind my inhibitions.
We had a fire on the beach last night. Andrew and Ian and Matthew and I. We wrote secrets down on slips of paper and bartered them back and forth before burning them. Name a price? An everyday night, eyes scanning the horizon for ships when the water slapped too hard against the shore. My shirt kept slipping down, it didn’t fit me. I’d bought it new earlier. Andrew and I were in the line-up at the bank and I declared that it was time for a new shirt. We cut through the mall on our way to meet people and I picked one off the wall as we walked by. How about that one? Bright pink halter top, not really my kind of thing at all. When I plucked it from the hook, I knew I wasn’t wrong though. Sale down to five bucks from forty, we were pushing an odd boundary, but the world approved. We were at the counter in under a minute. I paid the girl and walked away without a receipt. I handed my coat to Andrew as we stepped out of the shop, my courier bag a few feet later. We stalked to the other end of the mall while I stripped down to my bra. Not one broken stride, though I waited a crucial moment to get past some children before revealing lace to the public. The shirt was on in barely three paces. I fixed my breasts in a mirror quickly and I swung my coat on at the escalator. By the time we hit the outer doors, we were done. It was a triumph somehow, getting past security. Andrew couldn’t stop saying, “That was awesome dude!“