Wednesday, February 17, 2016


     The words wake her up, telling her stories.
     They want to come out of her fingers, so she reaches out, entering the pass-code for a phone that isn't there. She realizes and grabs her phone for real, feeling silly even though nobody can see in the pitch darkness.
      If they could, she would appear to be a sleepwalker, trapped in her bed.
      There is no light, a scary way to sleep for some, but that's the way it has to be.
      She feels the warmth of someone, and knows it's okay, she's really here.
     The story in her head fades as she searches for pants and shoes. The lights stay off because everyone else is asleep, and she knows exactly where to find everything in the dark.
     The late-night creatures and early-risers deserve their rest; she is somewhere in-between and used to it.
     Outside, there is silence, too, and no childhood friends come to sing songs about how they'll always stay around.
     When she sits down at her laptop and allows her fingers to touch the keys at last, she writes about something else in a different way than if she had spent time with Chris or Jay in that other place.
     She still misses them but not like last week, that little lost girl wanting her friends.
     Is she still hearing them but in a new way, one that wants to reach out instead deep within, where they have already promised to wait for her, always?
     Could the new drug be working its magic or is her current state of mind simply another detour?