Arcadia

75

Memories of other lives #2

If you had asked me how our evening was, I would say it was like any other, we got drunk and shit-talked everyone we knew, she left and I started to worry. I don't know why I do. She says you can never get lost in this city. We had fallen in love in October, our bodies were young and buzzing with promise and touch. That was a long time ago. We lost the electricity along the way, now I know the crevices of her body as well as I know my own. Sometimes I can't tell where she ends and where I begin. Even this, as I write it, sounds like her.

Loving her was like a drug back then. Loving her is a habit now, like our self-inflicted heartbreaks and disappointments and hangovers.