I don't see you there anymore, or then anymore, or around anymore anywhere. And especially not here. which brings me to something a bit more exciting, perhaps a bit more telling of what IS seen inside of this 'thing' (me being the 'thing')
i am certainly being chased quite quickly, but from what, i've never been sure. here, there are staircases that seem to go on for miles, so i am ascending them at such a velocity i have to stop to breathe on the second to last set. i pause there and can see into my windows from the ledge. you see, my apartment isn't much for walls, but windows rather. so this way i can absorb all the natural light, drink my morning coffee while my small slice of the world wakes up.
i can see from the ledge to the inside and i can see that my apartment is out of sorts. once inside, i have found that there are ripped letters, cabinets thrown open and contents poured out, tables and chair legs strewn about the living room, the tv's glass smashed to pieces, the appliances beaten and detached from their assigned spaces amongst the framework. and my money is gone.
and i have no context for what has just happened to me. i run out to the ledge again. i look below onto the dismal street. i see a former friend telling me to fucking jump. i look back into my apartment and see it is fully aflame now, who has been inside of there? the heat is so much i can feel my skin dissolving. so he's screaming to jump. i throw myself from the ledge and i soar above the fifteen flights of stairs, suspended forever. i've never felt so free. i wish i would have jumped years ago. and i wish he wouldn't have had to tell me to jump.