Cat Collins xo

The weather was that kind of perfect where you forget about it altogether. I was wearing green. You held my hand. We were so in love that it didn’t matter much when we found out there were no more trains for the evening. The city around us was dark and it seemed like we were the only two people awake. We walked slow, the night air gentle. I let the dark bear witness to the dress I wore that no one else would see.

At our apartment the elevator was out. Eight flights of stairs lay before us. The overhead light in the stairwell was impartial, informative. Our shoes clapped against the cement while you told me about a mountain you once climbed. You did that kind of thing for fun. Before I met you, I never knew that was something people did for fun. Not regular people. Not that you are regular to me.

We split a cigarette when we made it up to our little balcony. For once, we didn’t talk about how we were going to quit and just enjoyed the damned thing. Separately and wordlessly, we contemplated playing some music and making our own little party. We both wondered though if instead we should just drift to sleep like the rest of the city.