low tide
Sitting here in the dining room, alone. Quiet as an empty glass. The windows are black. I am tired — but restless. Blankly distressed, but letting that submerge. I’ve forgotten two different PIN numbers, two days in-a-row, now. I never forget things. Never used to, I guess. Oh well. Listening to the furnace blow hot air through the vents; it sounds tidal.