#48- Storage Unit.

Again, the parallels are uncanny.

Woke up to another text 

This morning, Miss.

After all the

Morning hours, spent

Missing waking up

To messages from you,

It feels pretty good 

To be starting

To get them 

From J, now.

Sleepy, still.  

Barely back

In my body 

And reality.

Reached for the phone. 

Saw a message from her

About Chris Cornell dying.

Replied with something, 

Innocuous.

She was very upset.

Alluded to some 

Great disaster.

Some recent development.

Typed a hurried message.

Involving dropping out 

Of summer coursework.

Finding a new job.

Needing to move back in 

With parents.

About being homeless.

And not being able 

To afford finishing her degree.

Tried to call.

She said she was too busy.

Silence, for hours.

In my head, a memory:

R, frantic,

Crawling out of her skin.

Trying to explain her situation.

About being homeless.

Because her "roommate"

Kicked her out.

So his "bish" could move in.

Then days later, 

Hearing that she 

Was squatting

In a storage unit

With some guy,

She was seeing now, 

Or something to that effect.

Message from J, 

Many hours past.

Explanation.

Apology

For not explaining earlier.

"That must have 

Been why you

Were so concerned."

"I'm so sorry."

Turns out, 

No great 

Imminent disaster.

Just looming threat,

Discovered after 

Going over finances

With her roommate.

"Thanks for calling me.

That was very considerate."

Spent the evening talking to her.

And thinking

That I seem to be growing

Pretty fond of this girl, Miss.

I'm so very glad that she's okay.

And on that note:

I haven't heard from you much, lately.

You seem depressed, too.

Hopefully things are well.

For you, now.

Then.

Whenever you read this. 

If you ever do. 

Author's Note

Odd day, today.