Dropping the phone

This is when I dropped the phone. I had been propping it between my shoulder and my ear.

The unholy sound that I released into the pre-dawn sky shattered my neighborhood’s sense of routine. my whole body cringed at the feeling of raw alcohol soaking deep inside my flesh.

I sat on the floor looking at the ceiling of this odd little house. The last time I saw the dusty heat duct I was with her. I remembered the last time we were happy around here, dizzy with excitement and limitless time. The pain opens a door behind me, I hear it’s creak and a slight draft. Imperceptible footsteps seem to communicate down the floor boards. It’s one of her scents: lavender, fleshy fruit, and some kind of nut.

That was when I felt the tears dry up on my cheeks. I forced my eyes open and realized that you still weren’t here.

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