No Decorum

The heat broke, at last. I went for an endless run along the river, under all the bridges and past the Wall Street crowds with their evening drinks. Past a hundred Chinese couples out on their late-night walks and quiet contemplation. Past the Pasta factory across the river, until my legs grew accustomed to the dull ache and my heart slowly beat every last thought out of my mind. The days are beautiful and painful all at once; you stumble into bed and wake at sunrise, there's no sense to make. She calls from the hospital, alone and waiting for the surgery to be over. You can't bear to think of that hospital. You still wish you were by her side.

When you come home, late, too late, too disheveled and you can't seem to put yourself together, your bed's been made. You tuck yourself in between crisp, stretched sheets. Sleep soundly without nightmares. Welcome the reprieve.