“Anyone sitting here?”
He raises his head, surprised to find himself here, in this place.
Words. Words words words. Spoken. Faltering.
“Oh thanks. Sorry if I was interrupting something.”
The sun, boxes, the sun, the soul crushing scale of it all.
“…no, feel free.”
She sits on the couch to his right. His coffee is still hot. How much time has passed. Any? None?
He holds his mug tighter. The warmth on his hands.
Yes, it’s hitting him now. This place. Always this place. Extension of self upon itself. Personas flung freely from minds splattered onto the walls with passion and fury. Let it stick! Let it fall!
She sets a backpack beside her. She opens it and pulls out a notebook, carefully placing it on the table in front of her.
“Are you writing as well?”
“Y…yeah, yes, I guess…”
Pause. Silence. The sun. The box. the sun.
“…I mean yes, to some extent.”
“How can you write to an extent?”
“Well, words, without thought I guess. I just…I just put words on a page. It’s nothing planned if that’s what you meant.”
“I didn’t mean anything. No implications. No assumptions.”
“Right. I mean right, I guess.”
Silence. The sun. The box. the sun.