//: 003
when he sits up the world swims in black before him until objects take grey forms against the half-light from the moon. remembrance no longer has a meaning. he wanders to the place where she sleeps and studies the blurred outline of her face, wondering if he is welcome between the sheets. the arguments tend to mean nothing in the grander scheme of their time together. they are not afraid to wake up with no memories. there are worse things to cry over.
and what is this, then, but another small mistake and another event to pass the time. he stumbles back to the couch and drifts back into slumber with his face pressed against the rough cloth. when he next wakes his ribs will feel compressed, if not his heart.