5.49pm.

the room’s been stripped bare. all that really remains is my computer, perched in the corner, the almost empty pack of cigarettes lying next to the keyboard, & the chinese paper lamp from ikea by the door.

the few boxes that comprise my earthly belongings, as it were, are stacked & piled a few steps down, in the room that was perpetually, pointlessly empty. the fan’s still plugged into the bare wall, & i wonder, idly, how we’d ever come to love this place. bland windowless walls, worn carpet both bleached & stained, & that damned beam you hit your head on more than a few times. but i guess it was the only way we could escape, & if we closed our eyes we could dress it up just a little & pretend it was some indie movie.

i remember we dreamed up an apartment in manhattan, some microscopic studio with just enough space for a bed & a kitchen, & maybe some wall space for my guitars or a corner for your easel. just four walls & a window & a bed, that was all we needed.

& tonight, it seems you’ll get your wish; or at least something like it. a little over three miles down frankford, there’s this three-story brick house, with a black wrought iron gate & three front steps. & in the back corner of the second floor, there are these two tiny rooms, each just big enough for a bed & maybe a desk or a bookshelf or a record player. they both have windows, & the walls are white. i’m going to need your help deciding where everything goes, & i have to find a dumb desk, & all sorts of other things that feel really quite pointless without you. i wonder if one day there’ll be a place for your chair (of ‘stubborn girl & antique chair vs. staircase’ fame) in one of them.

i want to try the bed in all the possible corners & see how the sunlight hits us in the morning, & then decide from there. let me know your schedule, & i’ll pencil something in.

& its as i’m wondering if you’ll like my latest odd choice in housing that your beauty blindsides me in black & white, & i am completely undone by your eyes & your lips & the hollow of your collarbone.

if i could kiss you just once tonight, i think that that gift alone would be worth the twenty-six years it took to find you.

psst.

listen for the doorbell.

#reply

pourquoi? 

parce que, mon cheri, le paquet est en route.

5:38pm.

& now to hold my breath for twenty-four hours.