“boxes stacked one on top of the other / to save space / in overpopulated cities”
“In the daylight, we didn’t talk. He avoided me. He didn’t know how to talk to me without a glass in his hand.”
The man had everything he’d ever wanted. His apartment was beautiful. His job was prestigious. His car was automated. And, yet, he considered the 20-story drop from his apartment balcony.
It became a kind of performance art piece, bleeding onto other people’s beds. They were never appreciative of her art.