I'm in the bathroom for its other function - to coddle solitude. I had just escaped from the arms of Wifey and my favorite pillow that clog my tear ducts. This was when the credits to the movie The Lovely Bones was about to roll. Lotho had already told me about it and since then I had been curious and it, well... killed the cat. Meow.
Shoulders are jerking. Cigarette somehow prevents the ball of wail that wants to come out of my mouth and instead, reshapes it into swirling smoke. I've come to memorize the small room that I'm in but my eyes tend to scatter like I'm looking for something that isn't here. I think about the movie while I automatically translate it into my own experience - personal questions. Ivan, are you here because I'm thinking about you? Did the universe arrange this exact setting for us to have this moment? Are you still here or is it just the machinations of my mind? Because I see your face. My shoulders are jerking. I want to extend my hand but I can't. You're still there/here. Were you at my exhibit too? Were you the one who'd make me look over my shoulder and see nothing? I sure think of you every time my eyes travel the night sky and be left in awe by its beauty. We'd always praise the night sky and sometimes cry, right? What is letting go? Where do I draw the line between that and acceptance and moving on and not forgetting? JUSTICE?
Your face disappears. I stop crying.