A Coma Feeling

"...Why, hello stranger."

"...Hello. I wished I would see you here again."

"That's very kind of you to say. I hoped you would too."

"I'm not doing anything. Nobody's waiting for me. I've got nothing pressing coming up. Could you accompany me?"

"...What do you know, you're definitely some sort of crazy, too."

"Can I take that as a yes?"

-

They came together. After lying silent, held, he got up to put his clothes back on, and to look out the window; she sat up to light a cigarette, and watch a silhouette press up against the grey sky and button up its shirt.

He sang a short tune to himself.

"It's painful to listen to you sing."

"It'll stop soon, worry not."

"You skew your notes."

"I try..."

"No, it's that....it's just so raw. You sing from your heart. You're singing it right. But your heart, it pours itself out into your voice. It's painful"

"...I don't know what to say to that."

"So are we just strangers?"

"If you would remember, I was ready to give my name. You told me no."

"So does that make it four now?"

"No."

"What do you mean?"

"With them, it's sex. With you, it's much more fragile. Delicate."

"Who is she?"

"Who?"

"That one. That won't have you."

"A ghost. Smoke. Bees buzzing angry at your window. She's your shadow, much as she is mine."

"...Will you come back?"

"I think I should leave now."

"You are infuriating."

"I might as well be. You don't know me after all."

She sits up to watch his back shrink into the morning light. She smokes another cigarette, and stretches into comfort.

-

He measures heavy paces, as her question still trails in his ear.

"Will you come back?"

This is important, but there are far more important questions, he thinks. Questions such as, he says to her, inaudible over the distance between them, will you come back......