You appear in the doorway. I am convincing my body that it is dying. I won’t last long. You say: I feel absolutely nothing. I am staring at you but my mouth won’t move. Your feet are covered in a nest of delicate hairs. My eyes are blood-red and sore.
For a while, we look at each other. Your lips are one line pointed in another direction. My hair is falling out all over the bed. Neither of us look particularly human. I say: I would like to keep going. You cover your eyes with your hand.
I stare at my toenails for a while. They are too long. They are starting to resemble talons. You say: At least tonight it will rain. I open my mouth and let one long breath escape. It is the only breath I have ever taken. The exhale is a rattle like something dying. Yes I say it should. At least. The rain.