"So what the hell happened."
"I don't know."
Eyes avoid each other, which is weird and sad and strange when you're sitting face to face.
"I don't know. I mean... You ever have the feeling that you need someone?"
Nothing.
"Well I needed someone."
"Someone to fuck, you mean."
"Ha, hmm..." And my eyes find hers for once, or her eyes find mine, and I think to myself, no, not even. No, not specifically, it's not that. It's something else. "Someone to tell me I'm here," I say. "Because every so often, almost always now, I feel like I'm about to disappear." Over a cliff through the railing, out to sea; head-on, headlong into black. Flint black. Forever night. "It's ok though."
Thanks, Spike Jones
