Passe-toi une bonne journée monsieur I say but he doesn't hear me. His mind somewhere else. The fruit of his work. All those cans. All those nickels. I wonder what they mean to him. I wonder what he does to forget. I’m always looking to try something new.
Head on a pillow and clothes on the floor I sweat and shiver, something is wrong. I want someone to call, to come save me, but the woman who used to won’t and the one that will is too far away. This is my future, drool going cold on the sheets, muscles stiffening. I pass out hoping I wake up. I need to make things right.
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