Shook up. That’s what it was. A car wreck of a day full to the brim with the light and hope of a road trip and country roads playing on repeat. Then the wreck. We tumbled through the avalanche of river stones. Their smooth weight bruises flesh and breaks bone. At least we knew there would only be a few broken teeth and bloody noses. We would recover.
I still remember light through your hair despite my concussion. Despite my attic and basement being unorganized. What is a man supposed to do with a herd of little flames that threaten to both warm the world and burn everything at the same time.
Who would have thought these shelves meant so much. Were they holding me up? Some kind of scaffolding for my internal structure. I suppose we will never really know.