8.13

I like when you don't talk to me and the anxiety makes me warm. I like when I come home and your toenails are stuck to my feet. I like to look at how disgusting your skin looks, and how the smell of garbage always reminds me of you. I like when you call me, and you are out of breath, and you take those long gaps in the middle of long sentences between words that should not be separated. I like when I wake up in the middle of the morning and feel your hair on my face. I like to look at pictures of you and use them to raise myself esteem. 

She liked to have French movies playing constantly in the background. You could hear the stream of words from any side of her place all the time, no matter what activity or task was being performed. I was charmed after my first visit and was won over after my third. We talked longer on my fourth visit and I witnessed the changing of films. It was done with such familiarity that I was considerably impressed. A few other people came in and out during the film, speaking personally with her while I half listened, one eye always on the film. I was intrigued. Soon I was there twice a week and the french refused to dissolve in the background. Around this time I was getting familiar with a few of the films that I had caught two or three times. I began to notice she would only watch a few of the dozens she played. In the middle of a cigarette, a month after the first time, I asked her. 

"They sound like my mother."

I'm not satisfied, but this is nothing new.