"Honestly, I can't imagine--" The words hung, stagnant in the air as the brightness in his eyes faded into that all too familiar dark glare. "That smell..." He grabbed my hand, tensing and shaking at the sight of blood under my nails. He rattled my name dangerously. "Koi...it itched..." I mumbled as I felt everything drain away from me, a bad dream in which you can't stop falling no matter no much you thrash your hands along the walls.
Blocked down and trampled by the limits of strength, I crush my nails repeatedly into my fists. All too weak to try to stop or limit the tears or the shaking or the pain, eyes approaching me and begging me to answer. I stammered my own reaction and excuses, but it was nothing.
"Floating almost, sky-starry, without retribution...would you leave me here to float up there on your own? Does your pain mean that much to you?"
To look back on times past and remember why these simple events happened is almost impossible. Hind-sight never answers any questions, it just poses more riddles. The blood that drips down the back of my left leg, his refusal to even look at me...falls like damaged film onto poorly lit concrete. I can't remember. I simply can't remember why.
The mistakes that I make, the sins that I commit...they are evident in my breath as my heart pounds and I clasp onto my surroundings in these early morning hours. The grass is still wet, the cement still cold. I drop once again into an almost nostalgic sort of pain and remorse as I watch the sun rise and reflect in his eyes.