[ when he wakes to the deepest silences of the desert night, a stray coyote barking, or the winds kicking up the red grit and sand, it feels a little bit like waking up from a dream. tonight, the sensation is different. the world doesn't seem to settle for it, to reorient itself with this empty frustration he can feel inside of himself. he feels small.
there's old wood and a reek of something like oil, a scent like the earth that surfaces from the cot every time he rolls over and rustles dust. but no, that isn't him. he feels like an intruder, he feels like he lives here, and there's static in the air, the world sitting strangely blue behind the quiet folds of cloth covering the windows; he thinks about the radios and the machines tucked away in the corner of the little room, and then he remembers that they've been off for years.
it's a strange mix of feelings. the nascent tension, the wrong words forming in his mouth. he remembers the stories of the pyramids, and the cats, and the constellations. he remembers feeling the scrunch of his smile, hearing them come from a voice that sounds oddly like his.
it's the middle of the night, sitting in a cabin that feels like his, that still feels unfamiliar, looking at the dark silhouette of someone he thinks he knows. there's relief, maybe, and something that feels like a long time coming. whatever it is, it feels right for a moment, because whatever the case might be, he's just glad to see him. ]
Hey.
[ quiet, gentle. anticlimactic for a reunion, but devastating for how it jolts and settles him in a single star-falling instant. ]
no subject
there's old wood and a reek of something like oil, a scent like the earth that surfaces from the cot every time he rolls over and rustles dust. but no, that isn't him. he feels like an intruder, he feels like he lives here, and there's static in the air, the world sitting strangely blue behind the quiet folds of cloth covering the windows; he thinks about the radios and the machines tucked away in the corner of the little room, and then he remembers that they've been off for years.
it's a strange mix of feelings. the nascent tension, the wrong words forming in his mouth. he remembers the stories of the pyramids, and the cats, and the constellations. he remembers feeling the scrunch of his smile, hearing them come from a voice that sounds oddly like his.
it's the middle of the night, sitting in a cabin that feels like his, that still feels unfamiliar, looking at the dark silhouette of someone he thinks he knows. there's relief, maybe, and something that feels like a long time coming. whatever it is, it feels right for a moment, because whatever the case might be, he's just glad to see him. ]
Hey.
[ quiet, gentle. anticlimactic for a reunion, but devastating for how it jolts and settles him in a single star-falling instant. ]
Are you awake?