She walks her fingers over me, taking the scenic route. “Where did you get this one?” her index finger traces a small scar on my collarbone. I touch the scar and try to remember. “I’m not sure, some scars don’t always have stories.” I set my head back and she chuckles, with a little snort at the end. “Melodramatic much?” She asks as her fingers begin the long walk down my arm to meet up with my fingers. “So, we can go anywhere?” She asks. I chuckle, but there’s no snort. “Pretty much, anywhere.” she rolls off the bed. I watch her until she steps behind the privacy screen to dress.
Picking a shirt from the duffle bag I slip it over my arms, pausing briefly she takes the cigarette from my mouth, I slide the white cotton shirt over the rest of me. It covers the scars with and without stories. She sits down next to me on the bed as I tie my shoes. “So where do you want to go?” I ask. She rubs my shoulders as she tries to answer “Uhh. You won’t laugh?” I place my hand over hers as I sit up from tying my shoes. “I won’t, I promise.” her hands drift from my shoulders and she falls back onto the bed. Covering her eyes with her arm she begins to explain herself. “When I was 16..” She laughs a little then continues. “When I was 16, I was foolish and dying. I used to think I could be a writer. I use to peddle poems to anyone with credits in their wallets. I guess that’s the funniest part. I couldn’t fill my empty belly with poetry, but poetry was the one thing I had. There was this little corner I would sit, write down anything I could, on anything I could find. ‘Want a love poem, no, something about life, death, anything?’ I would shout to the passersby. It sort of loses the whole art of it when it’s manufactured, I guess.” She moves her arm to reveal that her eyes are as red as her cheeks. Picking up her legs I set them on my lap, slightly comforted she continues. “I would go there every day, though my commute wasn’t very far.” she chuckles, with a snort.”A humble little home, of plastic crates and cardboard. I would wake and drag my tiny calloused feet to the little spot and just start writing away. Each day fewer and fewer poems we sold, tapped my pond dry. One day, as I could barely lift myself a dream came upon me like dreams do. Unexpected, but wonderful. Her clean hand brushed against my face. I felt as if the filth ran off of me like in a good rain. The food, the bread, the meat touched my lips. I bite down, best thing I have ever eaten. She sets the gyro on my lap and whispers into my ear.” She turns, slipping her legs away from me she tucks them closer to her chest. “She said, she said I would be better at selling myself than my words… I sat there eating, despising the demon in angel clothes, then, I guess I had an epiphany. I dragged myself up, I remember the crumbs falling like snow if that’s what snow looked like. Step by tiny step, I walked to the red district. Steps like drums, its beat carried my way into that shit pink building. I guess they saw me coming, their arms pulled me inside, into the fold, into the showers. I might be a whore, but I guess not all dreams are the ones we started with.” She reaches and grabs my wrist and pulls me against her. My face buried into her hair I ask. “Is that where you want to go?” She rocks her head. Digging into my pocket I pull out my device. I place the dangerous silver object into her hand. “Just think about where you want to go and were there, just don’t leave me behind.” I push my body against hers like puzzle pieces jammed together. The warm bed vanishes from underneath us.
The snow covers us before we knew what was even happening. We shake and kick off each other in our attempt to stand. Her body slips from my grasp, the blowing snow blurs her silhouette. I reach for her but she vanishes. I call out, but my calls are useless, I swing my arms hopelessly wading the snow. About to cry, when her arms wrap around my waist and we’re standing in her apartment.
I close my eyes as I fall towards the floor. Cracking my cocoon of shock she kisses me. I bump against her forehead as I jolt upwards. “What the fuck?!” I regret my yelling the second the words leave my mouth. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t know, here take it..” She tosses the lighter at me, it hits my chest then tumbles to the carpet. “No, I’m sorry, I should have explained it better, you have to think of the exact time and place. Come here.” I say as I stretch my arms, waiting for her to come into the bay of my embrace. Instead, she slowly stands, walks to the nightstand and removes a cigarette from the pack. Placing it nervously on her lips she looks up from her shaking hands to look right into me. “Think a girl can get a light?” I pick-up the lighter from the floor and hand it to her. She puffs away, unsure of what to do I pick at the snow stuck to my pants. “We don’t have to go there, I can take you anywhere else you…” She silences me with just a look. I nod and stand up, taking her hands into mine, the apartment disappears once again.
The street is busy and alive, the buildings rape the sky, right into space itself. Throwing the cigarette onto the sidewalk she kills it with her foot. Grabbing my arms she shifts my view to a corner of the street. A scrawny figure shambles from the dark and sits at the corner. Pouring a plastic bag of what looks like trash onto the sidewalk, wading through them she picks out a pencil. The figure tries to lift her arm to the page, but it soon sinks to its side. “Where is she, she’s not here yet?” Yumi searches up and down the street for her angel, but no angel is found. The smell from the cart is overwhelming. I sneak away from her search and buy two sandwiches, well, more like falafels. The lamb, or what I hoped was lamb steams as he places it on the flatbread. I pay the credits, though I think they might have had the wrongs dates, but he takes it just the same. I am soon standing next to her, handing her the sandwich she takes its. She brings it to her lips then freezes.
A body froze her eyes dart to each side, then to the ceiling of her head. Worried I swallow then put my hand on her wrist. “Is everything ok, what wrong, is she here?” I look up and down the street, but to be honest I didn’t know what I was looking for. She gasps, then with a chirp she says “Yes.” and runs off into the direction of the slumped down figure. I watch as she slides her hand over her younger self. “If I had a dollar.” I think, then laugh, then feel awful for laughing. I didn’t notice her walking back, her face is solemn as she hooks my arm with hers, pulling me along the street. We’re roughly a block away when a billion tons, fuck, a trillion tons of bricks hit her right in the heart. The moment of impact was easy to see, her stern face turns into a twisted mess of tears and anger. Stopping she shoves the device into my hands, my sandwich falls onto the pavement. “Home, now!” she yells. Worried and a bit scattered, I grab her hand and take her -home-.
The envelopes where I left them. The bottles clatter together as she crashes down onto my couch. A billion, nope, a trillion fucks echo in my head. I push them to the back of my thoughts, running to her side I try to comfort her. But like all those fucks, she pushes me back.