Metal Mood

They were lined up out back pacing with needles propped in their hands. Quick tugs on the rubber bands around their chubby arms, the prick, and then the plunge of skinny metal into their veins. I watched the rotund mannish women's eyes roll back into their heads in unison and I cringed. I tried to look away to the palm trees piercing the plumes of smokey clouds in the night sky. All I could think was "Los Angeles".

I closed my eyes as the wind kissed my cheeks. When my eyes sprung open again I saw my aunt talking about dying as she was living. Apparently, her last hospital visit tipped over her usual confidence and she couldn't help but wonder when her last hand would be dealt. This made me sad and so I left without a response.

In the room that followed my friend was sitting on a bench and beckoned me to sit beside him. Something made me hesitate or rather someone else's voice made me turn around. My old roommate was standing a few feet away. My stomach lurched. I blinked and she was still there, so I said her name and even though my feelings were not clear I apologized to her. She tried to force a smile. I tried to as well. She began to talk in order to fill in the gap of silence that lived between us. I wished for ear plugs.

She yammered on and I tuned her out and focused on my sense of smell. I smelled Europe: the mixture of time, diesel, cheese, cappuccino, and aged water. As the shadows stretched the scents were sent more body. I breathed in and coughed. Soon I was strolling alongside a canal and pondering the nuances of communication through silence.

By myself into the unknown I felt trepidation and exhilaration. Outside of my dream realm I still feel this way and often wonder "What is a life well lived? Should apologies, drugs, and the concept of death come together in one night? Should they penetrate so deep that the heart has no option, but to pump faster?".