you'd run out of breath but you hadn't made it to the best part yet. sitting on the end of your bed, call long distance and getting upset. but if you were here again, i think you would be disappointed. all the books you had around your head, they were all just fiction. you'd become so old, and i really hadn't changed at all. i could see your bones through your clothes, you looked thin and your skin felt cold. "your picture is still on my wall." you're going backwards.