Stay

The temperature rises by the minute, sunlight so bright you think this must be an alien planet because what else can explain the obscene squint in your eye. Jagged peaks and rolling hills beam into the room where you've closed all the doors, turned off all the sounds, you've stopped looking at the clock because panicking about minutes passing is addictive in a way that nothing else is. Look how I throw my gifts away, it is your most satisfying self-harm, it bleeds better than anything contained within your skin. Thoughts run wild with your own shortcomings, a city that never sleeps requests you do the same.

He sends you a good luck charm, a quiet reminder. He points to the sunshine. You pull up the blinds. A pack of coyotes saunter past your window, on a time table all their own.

Take a deep breath, you write on a Post-It, stick it on the window. Return to the word processor.

Stay.