Friday, January 30th, 2015
I dreamt a storm tore the city to ruins and everything was grey. The rubble was grey, the sky grey, the skin of the survivors grey. Fallen power cables bestrew the broken pavement like the cobwebs that layer the forgotten closet in my parent's attic. The grid was gone; crumbled towers and stacked slabs of cement separated one scene of chaos from the next.
Like the rest of the city, I wandered the streets with a handful of friends looking for something, some answer, a safety none of us could describe. A candle, perhaps, or maybe food? Everyone in the city was looking for something. And suddenly there you were, peaking around a rubble dune in search of something, though your pursuit seemed to have more direction than mine.
I woke when we parted ways not knowing what words had been exchanged, only that you were angry still, even after the city had collapsed. I went back to sleep until 2:00, and haven't left home today.
Missing you comes in waves, and it feels the worst when I can't see it coming.