The wind picked up tonight. It swirled around me as I made my way down dark, quiet streets. I had forgotten to notice the summer night light has gone. The air is still so warm, my bare legs trick me, I retain the fearlessness of a whole other season. Is it fall now? Is it time to board the windows and hibernate our hearts till spring? I cannot conceive it; my heart burns much too hotly still.
As I made my way up that last part of the hill, around that last corner, followed my confident footsteps through locked gates to which I had the keys, I giggled slightly at the simple pleasure of going home. And I know this is not real, I know this is only just pretend, but sometimes games are just as good as the real thing, if you believe them bad enough.
When I lie in my bed, I can hear the subway trains run underneath me. Under this building, under the earth, at a steady pace on a regular schedule, the green line trains run underneath the bed where I sleep. The thought comforts me infinitely. I vow to believe, however much it takes.
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