I can hear him talking, his voice just slightly audible in the dim room. The longer I stare at him, though, the quieter his words get, like the universe itself is trying to make him vanish into thin air. But no matter how much I wish for it, he’s still there—like a stain on my brain that won’t wash away.
And then, out of nowhere, a song starts playing in my head. Like, full-on musical theater, random playlist style, and I’m stuck here, mentally grooving to it against my will.
You know better, babe, you know better, babe
Than to look at it, look at it like that
You know better, babe, you know better, babe
Than to talk to it, talk to it like that
Don’t give it a hand, offer it a soul
Honey, make this easy
Leave it to the land, this is what it knows
Honey, that’s how it sleeps
Don’t
