Out

A Story by Lucifuge

It was early and i stood at the window beside the curtain with the dust. It was warm and i began to cry as though i had been told something and it yanked and twisted. That wasnt it, so i sat down and looked around at all the pointless people and all the broken things that made up the morning. A bottle rolled by out on the street and i hoped something real might happen. It wouldnt. There was a nice sweetness in my stale vomit and i smiled that it cared enough to fill my lungs. I couldnt cry anymore, i had no tears or reasons, and people could see me if they looked up. I didnt feel like sharing what had come over me. They didnt deserve it, and i felt like having a drink anyway. I opened a beer and watched the crows and seagulls and wondered if they would like to move away. Where i lived wasnt the point and i waited for whoever she was to wake up and leave me with the beer. I heard her murmur in her sleep, and i hoped she had pretty dreams.