eight september
eleven : twenty p.m.

i didn't get to talk to him last night. things felt strange and empty and unfinished.

they were the same way when i woke up this morning. life went by without my noticing, despite the fact that i was participating in it. i kept staring. they'd be talking, and i'd be staring, and i wouldn't hear them at all. i kept asking them to repeat their questions.

i am talking to him now. things have settled.