We didn't make it home until the moon had been baptized by the pink morning rays, walking from Le Baron aimlessly searching for a taxi, La Tour Eiffel in the background, Le Grand Palais ahead on the left, the Seine sitting, strolling along beside us.
I liked his apartment the ceilings were high, the walls white, 3 separate rooms, a hallway. I can't stay here long, I had to leave in two hours, last night I was told I was sulking, I had a chip on my shoulder, I replied, " I just can't stop thinking", about what I was thinking, things that can be distracting, things that make people around you seem unnecessary.
Like the cut on my left hand the dream came in three parts, deep and resting between the bones, I wasn't sure if I was awake or asleep, hook shaped and scratching the surface, I was trapped, a sense of knowing it would end with me blacking out into slumber and wrapping downwards towards my wrist and the thickest cut of the three, I was talking, asking what time it was, asking him how he called this cat I had been having a starring contest with, looking into her deep avocado eyes, asking where his alarm clock was, asking why his roommate was making so much noise, his eyes were open but blank, his mouth was closed into a tight grin but not responding to my questions, I remember starring at his eyes as he moved around not making a single sound, I remember moving my mouth but the sound of my words remained in my head, I grew frustrated and resorted back to the middle of the three cuts, option: slumber.
I awoke easily, precisely how I wanted to wake, I left without waking my starring in sleep state friend, as I descended the first set of stairs in the building I remember him telling me he lived alone and with the second and final set of stairs the story of his ex-girlfriend taking his cat to the country, to live there, came back to me.