It's slowly getting darker, I had tried for days to forget about him when he called me last night, Henry. I asked him what the time was in Paris but I already knew (2.35 AM). His breathing was unusually calm through the wires and he spoke as if he was trying to remember the words before he said them.
listened, watching the sun as it set from a chair in the kitchen. "I'm
in Nice next week, you should come see me" he said. "I'll be at the
Negresco". It made sense somehow, I slept until the morning and dreamt
about an ocean.
The apartment is still empty of sounds and
movements, sometimes in the dark I try not to breathe and it almost
feels like being alive.