Chloe calls me from work, "they're talking about you again", she says. I know I'm awake but the sense of falling through thin air reminds me more of a dream or a nightmare. I'm walking aimlessly around my bedroom, listening to her hurricane breaths on the other end of the line and they sound just like voices.
She tells me how she showed my blog to someone at the ad agency and asked if it's a campaign for something. They asked about the "Chloe character" (it's not her real name) and what the purpose would be if it was. Mother walks by my room, "am I real?" I ask her. She stares at me for seconds that seem like hours, as if she's trying to make up her mind, then quickly vanishes from the door frame leaving a trace of her Cartier de Lune perfume floating on the wind like a feather.
I'm left alone with the unanswerable question, I should go outside but I'm suddenly afraid of getting lost. New York a raging ocean, I close my eyes and picture the flowery fields from a time when everything was different. I see the butterflies and the forest and it's all still so very quiet.