Out Loud

We talked for hours, I suspect. I walked around the living room table fifty times; the carpet is so soft underneath. I stared into the neighbors' across the street; they were watching television; I should have watered the plants instead.

The point is, after all the little tornadoes of contempt and regret had twirled through our conversation and into the air, finally the right words came out.

There, she said. You said it. And I knew she was right.

It's funny how you knew all along what to do. How that light always shone and you followed it, on crooked paths perhaps but you always knew what you hoped you'd find at the end.

Sift through the madness. You'll get there, in time.