The Shrink

My world was a country. I spoke its language, and this meant that wherever I went could be called a home. For tonight, it’s just this city. Lights flash and the city doesn’t sleep. At first, I refuse to as well, but exhaustion catches up with me, and I fall into a well of soft darkness.

Now my world is our car. The two of us race through the countryside, passing farms, rivers, and hilltops. Emerald trees tremble under the weight of heavy raindrops as my world rapidly shrinks.

You drop me off at the airport in a hurry, helping me grab my bags out of the trunk. My home is your embrace, my world our kiss, our goodbyes.

I rush through the airport, and wait at the gate with just my bag and my coat. My world is now just me, in my own head– and I can’t go so far as to call it a home.



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