There have been clouds for days now and still she takes this time. She stopped lining her shoes, just a pile of color and shapes, heels pointing every which way. She holds her arms each time up and down the stairs, always chilled. Just thought you should know, she reads cereal boxes to herself now. She ran out of milk.
Tim? She asked me.
And I said Yeah?
And she said she wanted to dye her hair or buy a car or travel or do none of those things ever ever again and could I get her a glass of water? Oh never mind, she said.
And you should know that she still writes and she says it’s not to you that it’s just stuff she says.
Tim? She said.
And I said, Yeah?
And she said that she remembers camping in Mexico, and the bonfire that one night, setting our breath to the waves, she said, and she said that she remembers getting a head massage and she thought it was from you, but never could remember to ask I said that Aries always really like head massages.
She still does
And she still does and still does.
Just thought… Yeah.