1:17 a.m.

The apartment is empty again, one day she's booked the ticket and pretend vacation is over. You return to your normal habits, leave dishes in the sink, forget to enjoy the heat wave that spreads over the city like a welcome plague, disabling the citizens from anything but basking. One night I fell asleep at six p.m. and didn't get up until the alarm rang the next morning; my every muscle was tired. I closed my eyes and felt the weariness pulsate in me, vibrate through the cells and I didn't know one body part from another. Summer is glorious.

The job is beautiful but exhausting, reminds me what it keeps me from doing. Creative spark plugs lie scattered around the apartment, burnt up and to no good. I am not ready to succumb. Give up, give in. This is not what I'm meant to be doing. The clock ticks quickly, races against the speed of my heart beats. He says we have to meet up before I go, because when I return you'll be long gone and I didn't realize the goodbyes could come so soon.

My father calls in the middle of the night. I have painted scenarios of many deaths before I hear the message of his voice from inside a pocket seam. My eyes wide awake, I see it: We have this now. There is nothing else to count on.

I don't want to sleep, anymore.