Waiting

I woke up several times the night before.
I don't know why, but when this happens I generally start pacing.

Its tense, and my room and sheets are filled with the kind of vibrating anxiety and urgency I'd forgotten about since high school.

'It's at that point. You know?' (I explain to Stephanie and Adrian 3 nights after)... drafting text messages, setting mini ultimatums, reminding yourself that things are going to be ok.

The pacing is followed by rehearsing.

'Hi', hi sounds good. Hi's familiar, Hi's inoffensive enough and disarming. 'Hey', I mouth instead. I remember Scott once pointed out to me in uni the odd necessity to start SMSs with the word 'Hey'.

Closing my eyes again. I have another dream and think of Walter - the subject in 'the Gift' (by the velvet underground)- a boy who'd successfully posted himself to his girlfriend cross continent only to be accidentally stabbed in the head by her kitchen knife (which she useses to pry open the freight box).

The morning comes soon enough.