I stood in the center of the now empty apartment, sweeping up the last bits of dust bunnies.  They laid there now, in a pile between my worn out shoes, waiting for their final resting place.  In that moment I, too, wondered that about them.  Where do any of us end up?

She emerged from the bathroom with her last few toiletries, stuffed them in a bag, hauled the thing over her shoulder.

“Thanks for cleaning.”  Her voice echoed in my head.

“Of course.” I smiled, despite myself.

It was an ending I wasn’t sure I wanted anymore, but one had I no control over.  It was time for the tornado to pass.  And no human being was ever able to control the weather.  Not yet, anyway.

She had this way about her, you see, that lured you into her world, made it apart of yours.  There really was no escaping it.  Not that you’d choose to exit anyways if you saw the big red neon sign flashing in front of you.  Maybe you’d approach it, but then you would look over your shoulder there she would be, looking at you.  And that’s all it really takes, one look.

I’ve always been a sucker for “the look.”  Something about someone looking directly into my eyes makes me feel completely naked, vulnerable.  And then I’m just putty.

Anyways, she gave me that look once and I lost it.  Dropped everything I knew about living and loving.  Up until her I thought playing it safe was the way to go.  I was wrong.  I decided to take another chance at it, since locking away my heart in storage for some time.  The last girl I lent it to returned it shattered into a trillion pieces.

But this one, now, standing in front of me in her now empty apartment, this one was different.  I suppose I could say I sort of knew what I was getting into, but now that I was in it, I knew it was possible of losing myself all over again.  Maybe in the good way this time.  I never imagined myself to be someone with enough courage to chase down a tornado, but I did.  It was the craziest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve never felt more alive.

I kissed her goodbye, held onto her for just a little longer.

“Fly free.” She whispered into my ear.

I smiled, genuinely this time, thinking of all the places she would travel, the people she would meet.  It was inspiring.  Someone who spent their life traveling, making pit stops just to rattle up everyone’s life.  It was like a gift to enjoy just in that moment, and then she was gone, on the road again.

Pupils dilated, his eyes dart around to every corner of the room.  The noises echo and so he follows them, hoping he can pinpoint the source.

And when a breeze blows through he perks up, sniffing the air.  There’s something new there each time.

You would think there would be a million thoughts running through his mind, his eyes so wide with wonder, but in that moment he was solely focused on one goal.

The door creeked open, light leaking through followed by the chatter and footsteps of familiar figures.  He steadied his legs.  He could smell it even more now, the freedom of the outdoors.

Though the feet shuffled quicker and the chatter increased in volume.

“Bah! Copernicus! No!”

He was blocked, the hopeful light of freedom growing slimmer and slimmer.  He leaned back searching for a way around the obstacles, but there was nothing.  Fear gripped his heart for too important a moment and the opportunity to escape slipped away from him.

He cried out in defeat, staring desperately at his only exit.  Alas, he realized there was nothing he could do and walked over to the center of the living room to lick his own butthole.

She had been employed at this writing office for god knows how long.  It had become her life.  Everyday she had to dedicate herself to the place. Every. Day.

She held one pile in her hand, circling, dotting, crossing out.  Even though she was exhausted, she read furiously.

“This shit is no good, Edren!”  She exclaimed.

Edren looked up from his desk in his glass office.

“What’s wrong with it?” Edren stood up from his desk, exited his office and walked over to Vicky’s.

“It’s…it’s just no good. I don’t even know where to begin. I mean, we’re supposed to be publishing our twenty-fifth anniversary edition and this is what we have to work with? I’m going to throw up.”  Vicky was slightly bitter.

“Relax. Let me take a look at it. Why don’t you work on another piece?” Edren, always the stern voice of logic, took the pile from Vicky.  He scanned it briefly. “Hm…”

“What?” Vicky looked up at Edren while pushing some papers around.

“You’re right. This is shit.” Edren laughed, Vicky joined in.

Just then the elevator dinged and Narinda came strolling in.  Aviators on, cigarette dangling from her mouth.

“I forgot my lighter. And apparently nobody on the seventh floor fucking smokes.” She stopped at her desk. “What are you guys laughing about?” Narinda walked over to join Edren and Vicky at her desk.

“This.” Edren said, handing Narinda the piece.

She scanned through it, furiously and then frowned. “We’re not publishing this, are we?”

Edren and Vicky both shook their heads.

“Good, cause this is shit.” Narinda said “I mean…sorry.”

Narinda finally noticing who the author was. “Maybe with a little work…”

Vicky grabbed the piece from Narinda’s hands.  She crinkled it up and tossed it in her trash bin. “No, it is shit. I’m sorry I even wrote it. Let’s try this again.”

On mornings when I slept over, my cousins and I would wake up early enough to catch our favorite cartoons.  Grandma would be in the kitchen, already scrambling eggs, perfectly fluffy.  And toast, perfectly toasted.

It would just be a big bowl of scrambles eggs and a towering plate of toast.  We would dig in while losing our minds to the television.  On some mornings, she would allow us to drink coffee.  It was nice and warm, and we would dip the toast in it.  The condensed milk was the magical part.

On a brisk winter’s afternoon several, several years later, I stood in front of my grandmother’s grave.  It was the annual Christmas visit.  Fresh flowers, new water, warm incense.

Cemeteries have always been fascinating to me.  It’s this strange dichotomy of life and death, I think.  A constant reminder that even in a cemetery life is continuing, evident by the growing number of tombstones around my grandmother’s year after year.  I missed her a little more than usual this year.  A part of me felt like I needed her calming presence, live, in person.  But knew I would have to settle for the spiritual.

And then I stood, on a brisk winter’s night, in a crowded bar across from an ex that I was afraid would drudge up past unwanted feelings.  The past always comes back with a mighty fury.

However, I only watched her from the corner of my eye, and conversed with another old time chum.  And while shouting across the way to each other, I proclaimed that I’m living life differently now.  That I’m completely uncertain where my life is heading and that I love that.  I’m happier because of it.

Immediately after saying all that I realized it was true, though a hint of fear for the unknown still lingered in the back of my heart.  The friend disagreed, but it didn’t matter.  The past no longer had to be something that anchored me down, though it has molded who I’ve become, who I’m becoming.

Standing there, completely full from a late dinner, I suddenly had a craving for scrambled eggs.

Albert tapped his foot on the linoleum floor. He stood in the center of the broken down kitchen, cabinet doors falling off before his eyes. He shuffled about, holding his briefcase and coat closer to him.

“Did you?”

Jonathan stood, leaning against the peeling doorway. He dressed more casually these days. Just jeans and a sweater. A cigarette dangled from his mouth, he was waiting for the right opportune moment to light it.

“What’s today’s date?” Albert paced about.

“I think it’s the twenty-sixth, sir.” Jonathan replied, casually.

“Yup. Looks like I missed Christmas again.” Albert sighed. He put his briefcase down and pulled a small envelope from inside his jacket. “Do you want this?”

“I don’t like surprises. What’s inside?” Jonathan eyed the envelope closely.

“The will, dumbass.” Albert waved it about towards Jonathan, urging him to take it.

“Well, I don’t want that either.”

“Will you just take it? Be an adult for once.”

Albert and Jonathan were at a stand off. Jonathan decided then would be a good time to light his cigarette.

“I’m going to smoke this first. And then I’m going back to the car, and then I’m going to drive away from this place and never look back. Is that adult enough for you?” Jonathan smirked. He hated himself every time he did, but knew he wasn’t going to change.

“I think that’s absolutely the complete opposite of adult behavior. Look, we need to handle this situation together. You can’t leave me hanging like this.” Albert scuffled towards Jonathan.

Jonathan held out his hand to stop him. “It’s not my problem, brotha. You’re the one who missed Christmas.” He turned and left. Tossing the half smoked cigarette towards Albert.

Albert flinched, taking a step back and immediately putting out the cigarette with his left foot. It was his good leg. He watched Jonathan leave, knowing he couldn’t stop him. Earlier that week Albert had just gotten engaged, and heard news that he was to receive a promotion. He bought himself a new tailored suit that many people had complimented him on, just when walking down the street. He was at the top of his game. Family, he thought, always managed to put a damper on his mood. Or bring him back down to reality.

Albert called his fiance as soon as he got back to his car and told her how much he loved her.

“But!” She contested but he placed a hand over her mouth.

“No more words.  Only action.”

And then he was off, sprinting.  He collided with several obstacles, knocking down columns, potted plants, desk lamps, wheelchairs.  Anything that you could imagine that would be awkward and in the way, there they were…in the way.

She watched him flee, her heart going with him.  My hero, she swooned.  If only, she thought, there was another way.

Instead she chose to listen, she saw that the end was near.  And then she turned and ran, as fast as she could, and burst through the balcony doors.  She jumped, as far as she could, and grappled onto the balcony across the way.

She was safe now.  And when she turned he was there in the doorway looking at her.  He winked, as best he could.  She swooned again.

And then, she awoke.  In the discomfort of her own bed, disgruntled by the fact that it was all a dream.  Her life was still as dull as it left off the day before.

“Fuck.”

And then you beat yourself up, agonize a little bit over the fact that you are who you are. That no matter what you try to say or do to change yourself, it remains inside you this fool who loves to believe, who loves to love. And then you remind yourself that in most relationships, of any sort, there is always someone who cares more than the other. You are usually this person. But then again, you’re not in a relationship.

You are floating, and hungry for more. Starving sometimes. Famished. Foolish.

You’ll start to feel not like yourself, but perhaps even, more of yourself than usual.  It’s complicated, I know.  Imagine you are driving, stark naked, down a windy road, unaware of your surroundings or destination and you find that you’re just about to run out of gas.  That is possibly the most accurate way of describing driving down Sequoia Street at 12:32 a.m every other Wednesday.

Then, when nothing else makes sense and you’ve pushed down on the gas as hard as you can, eight minutes will have passed.  Then you will find yourself turning off of Sequoia in order to escape any other disasters, little knowing that the worst part has passed.

And then, later, you’ll forget what happens on Sequoia street and take it again because it’s the shortest way to get home.

In an instant she retracted all her previous statements, changed her beliefs.  Sera held onto Lincoln’s limp body in her arms, squeezing as hard as she can as if she could muster the life back into him, simply by willing it, simply by squeezing hard enough.

“Come back, come back, come back.” She whispered into his ear between gasps, hiccups and tears.

Behind her a flurry of lights and sirens approached her like a wave.  Sera knew they would only wash everything away, tear them apart.  She squeezed Lincoln tighter.  They shouldn’t be separated, if they did then it wouldn’t work.  The miracle she was desperately crying out for would escape them.  It would get lost, unsure of where to land, unable to find the two connecting bodies that requested its presence.

“Fuck you, Lincoln. Come back.” Sera rocked back and forth, her clothes becoming soaked with Lincoln’s blood.  It mislead her to believing she felt the warmth of Lincoln still in tact.

Yet when the paramedics skidded to a stop in front of Sera and Lincoln, they looked into each other’s eyes and knew.  This one was a goner, they both nodded to each other.

But Sera refused to let go.  She only squeezed tigher each time they requested for her to let go, let them take a look at him, let them try and help.  Sera shook her head furiously.  Not yet, she thought, she was still waiting.

“I’m so sorry.”

Everyone looked up.  A frail looking teenage boy stood, shaking, sweating, a cut above his eyebrow sent a line of blood down his face, mixing in with his tears.  Sera shut her eyes.

“No, no, get him out of here. You don’t exist, you’re…you’re not real! Fuck you! Get out of here!”  Sera’s voice screeched, cracked.  She had never sounded like this before, never thought she could feel this much anger towards another human being.

Lincoln did not move, budge, breathe.  He only continued to bleed and stay lifeless in Sera’s arms.  And when they were finally torn apart from each other, Sera did not see the miracle anywhere in sight.  She screamed Lincoln’s name, hoping he would respond, tell her to keep her voice down like he always did.  Smile, punch her playfully in the arm, and lean back, allowing her to punch him back.  He did none of these things now.  Sera knew, he would never do them again.

In the ambulance she sat on their bed, getting herself bandaged up.  Not all of the blood on her was Lincoln’s, they all realized.  She had a good amount of cuts and bruises herself.  The most prominent one being across her shoulder blade, almost crossing over to her neck.

“It’s a miracle you’re alive.” The paramedic spoke as she dabbed away at her cut.

Sera’s eyes glazed over to the paramedic and then passed her.  She watched the other ambulance with Lincoln being placed inside.  The miracle had found her, but it was too late, she had already let go of Lincoln.

It was one of those slightly awkward hugs, because they were in a car, his car to be precise. He had offered to pick her up and take her to a movie. The two dates prior to this one, they had met for a late dinner and the weekend after that, an early lunch.

They arrived at the theater late. A car accident causing an unruly amount of traffic. When they finally got into the film neither of them really wanted to see, but both not wanting to speak up about it, thinking the other one did actually want to see it, they had to sit apart in the packed theater. At some point someone spilled a soda in his lap, and on the side of the row, she sat uncomfortably knowing the bottom of her shoes were being coated in who knows what.

The ride home was no less enjoyable as they both had nothing to say about the film, neither of them wanting to express their utter hate for it, not wanting to seem petty. There was more traffic, oddly enough, and the stereo decided to stop working all of a sudden.

But at the end of the date, she decided they should hug because throughout the whole ordeal he never stopped smiling, or asking if she was having a good time, or laughing at her jokes, or stealing glances when he thought she wasn’t looking.

When he put the car in the park in front of her house, she unclasped her seat belt and told him, very directly, to give her a hug. He obliged. And they planned for another date.