Our final days grow ever darker, but win­ter feels far away when I turn on the A/C in the car as we set off on the scenic route. It’s strange to think I’ll never be here again. I do my best to take my time, to remem­ber the smell of every wooden house and twirl of hair and cozy wind. This was never a way for me to escape my life back home, only a jour­ney I knew I needed to take.

But the nov­elty of grey hair and almond eyes has long run out, and now I’m just a man, try­ing to find out where he belongs.

A mask that smiles.

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It’s night, and a gen­tle song begins on my bed­side speaker. Until this point, I’d always won­dered who’d be the first to hear this song with me. Whose breath I’d feel on my body as the melody got lost in the dark­ness along with our inhi­bi­tions. It wasn’t a song I’d been sav­ing, only one I never had the chance to share until I found myself here, explor­ing the open fields and windswept moun­tains and towns in between.

 

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The stars are clear out here. A train runs through the cen­tre a few times a day, blar­ing a horn as a warn­ing to peo­ple who may be going from build­ing to build­ing by cross­ing the tracks. It’s a tiny vil­lage in a snow­globe, only the snow hasn’t come.

I haven’t been around this many peo­ple in years. I’ve long won­dered what it’d be like to live this life one more time. To have rit­u­als and the­atre plans and reg­u­lar friends. None of this is real, of course, but I don’t mind pre­tend­ing if only for a lit­tle while.

Girlcave. Fucking awesome.

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