Living Space

I remember it better than I expected. To be honest I'm surprised I remember anything at all. The walls were dripping and the chair I was in wrapped its legs around me and took off like a rocket ship. The dust on the floor filled the room, creating dunes and waves that cast shadows over the worn down molding that met the wall at the floor. I know I was there. I have all the proof I need. There were others with me, and they were all locked in this room as well. I remember trying to escape; clawing at the door and ripping through the walls. But we had no choice. A few others tried to enjoy the ride, sitting off in corners playing with their fingers, or with a piece of broken glass. They were the smarter ones. They found a way to pass time without having to bother with everyone else. I envied them. I still do.

It always comes back to a girl. I don't have to make sense of the lead peeling off the walls or the rust that eats right through both the table and your overwhelming humility. I don't have to make sense of it if I don't want to. That's something you will have to do on your own, friend. I remember, once, she spun that globe on the table. It didn't stop until the axis busted and it rolled off the table. She spun the world too fast; too hard. I would have caught it, the world, but I didn't care enough. I wanted to see it shatter. I wanted to watch it explode into so many pieces that it would never be whole again. All it did was bounce. I remember this vividly. Just as well as I remember when we moved in.