We were supposed to get a massive thunderstorm through here, so Dea and I went down to the ground floor of the apartment building and sat outside under the overhang on a bench that has left permanent slat imprints on my backside. She let me hold her though, pressed herself against me. And we talked like we used to, of everything and of nothing, huddled against each other like children.
I miss her so much. She has been occupied with school and her boyfriend and going out with Phoebe to attend to those things that Orson is completely clueless about and I’m useless. But it amazes me how I can see her almost every day, live with her, and still miss her so profoundly. Especially when we don’t talk or make time to talk.
We never did get our thunder. Rain came by and the sound of it was pleasant on the metallic overhang, but nothing beyond that. And she just called it a night and said we would try again some other time.
She may be ready for sleep, but my hands and arms tingle from having held her. My heart rate has gone up, especially at the prospect of repeating this another night. I am energized. Wide-awake.
And I don’t know what to do with all this energy and wakefulness at 2:30am
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