1. The fog rising off the tall grass is thick and orange-hued.

2. Why is it that we scrub ourselves clean beyond recognition? Who do we think we are fooling?

3. The coffee tastes bitter and burnt but I drink it anyway because this is ritual and sometimes we forsake soul-sense in devotion of habit.

4. Milky air.

5. I am not breathing. 

6. I hold my breath too much.

7. The way he is more himself when we are alone: head tilted, limbs so long and lean and folded over.

8. My skin is damp. Dewey. I am my own ecosystem.

9. There is a car up ahead whose taillights look like sirens. How the sight of what might be sirens makes me hold my breath.

10. I hold my breath too much.