Christine’s apartment is on the third floor. Her hands aren’t steady enough yet to deal with the keys, so I open the door and help her up the stairs. I still haven’t let go of her. Worried she’s going to crumple at any moment. I carry her up the last flight.
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Still Life With Taylor 8
Dawn is a pale dirty light, daybreak in only the most technical sense. Rain hasn’t stopped. Spitting in half hearted drops. Gentle arhythmic patter on the windows, and Taylor’s breathing in my ear, are the only sounds in the room. I have lived my life still and quiet. The past day has been anything but. [...]