cotton hearted and polyester-veined, i was staggering, sweating some sort of wool blend. there were hookahs, guitars, and houseplants strewn about at random. the big, thick wrinkles on my forehead were all bunched up and scrunched together like a five-car-pile-up, my crow's feet were dancing, the smile-lines were frowning, and the rest of my face was just rubbernecking it at the carnage. what caused it, though, was the letter. when i read the letter, i crumpled up on the floor like paper. then i found the gas can and the matches, and after it was all over, i didn't have to think about it anymore.
wish you were here.
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