Loud and clear.
I would always stay up late and sometimes I would hear buzzing sounds. Sometimes I would imagine it was my father driving a huge airplane to take me to Tokyo, but it was usually just my mother’s old computer or an insect trying to escape the summer heat. I hated the summer too, my hair that everyone was begging for me to cut would stick to my forehead, and it would be way too warm to wear boots. I enjoyed watching the leaves fall and wrapping myself up in blankets and warming ourselves with each other’s body heat. I missed your warm back, I missed your cold feet that you refused to tuck into the quilt. If I had taken a picture from a bird’s point of view of us lying in my bed last winter, all you would of been able to see is our heads and your dirty toes, and I was okay with that. I was okay with your generic music taste, I was okay with our long walks to find the edge of the world, and I’m okay with us being over. I just had to say that, loud and clear, as the buzzing keeps continuing. I wouldn’t mind one of our walks right now, because it’s not cold enough to wrap myself in blankets alone, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that yet. I’d just feel incomplete. So I took a picture from a bird’s point of view of my bed, it was empty but if you looked closely there was dust on the quilt. I hadn’t washed it because I couldn’t stand to lose anymore of what we had. I’m still okay with your generic music taste and I’m okay with us being over. Loud and clear.