twenty-one january
twelve : thirty-seven a.m.

i taste like him.

"what is it now, january twenty first? my break doesn't start until march seventeenth."

"it'll be okay. it isn't that long.." he hesitated.

"yeah." i couldn't stop crying. silent. noticeable.

i talked to myself the whole way home. repeated the same things over and over. i wanted to turn around and apologize. i wanted to just stand there and press my face into his shoulder and inhale.

i kept driving and talking. the heater started to work just as i pulled into the driveway.

music : "knives out" by radiohead
literature : nothing
fixation : leaving again