liminal
the day is almost over. my skin is tinged yellow from fleeting bruises that everyone can see, but i can’t feel.
i awoke on a train years after my stop, and realized it’s too late to get off where everyone expects i should have.
the train car is empty, but still warm from someone whose stop arrived just before i awoke.
what am i doing today that i will soon regret? have i made the right choices this time? have i learned anything?
someone’s laughing, sharp and cutting. it’s me.
the day is almost over. the sky has fallen purple like fleeting bruises that everyone can see, but i can feel.