You motion for another martini and down it quickly. What number is that? Three? Five? Why hasn’t He noticed you yet? You’re drunk but not yet sloppy. You’ll leave before that happens. Catch a cab, stumble up the stairs to your fourth-floor walk up. You pick up your cell and your fingers move slowly but you put a note in your phone with the name of the bar you’re at—sober you will appreciate the breadcrumbs.
I daydream a lot about floating in the air. A slow, sort of dead man’s float across the sky. This doesn’t make much sense to me because I don’t like planes. Or swimming. I prefer concrete over carpet. Analysis over meditation. So, the floating in the air thing—well that is a little crazy. A contradiction to my nature that feels oddly good.
my type lies about their music taste until it’s too late and we’re both pretending to like St. Vincent
Things were beginning to feel indefinite.
Yelka Kamara is the creator and host of the podcast Kume: Turning Point Diaries, where she explores critical moments in her guest’s lives. Yelka founded the podcast with a simple mission: tell stories that inspire […]
This was a companion to the love I had known: the shutting of doors.
parenthesized by a stream of repudiation
reveling in the feel of standing at the beginning of something, before it swallows me whole
