I was wrapped in so many hands, like cellophane, and now it’s just glass. Not the sharp kind that cuts you, but the flat, cold kind — the kind that makes your whole body shiver from the touch.
I keep lighting one after the other, hoping smoke might fill me whole from this emptiness. I just — I just feel so lonely. Uttering the word alone makes my eyes water, almost tear.
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And then I remember I’m alone in my car. I have been for the last three hours. Not even bothering to use my phone — or pretend to. Not listening to music, which is supposedly one of the things I care about.
I don’t move. I don’t reach for anything. I just sit there, letting the smoke thin out, letting the quiet stay.
