Even going to jail would be easy compared to losing you.

The whole night had been a mistake. It's not going to let me rewind. Or unmake the mistakes I've made.Or the promises I've mad. Or have her back. Or have me back.

Sleep would be so welcome. A warm blanket of black to erase everything else. Sleep without dreams. I've heard people talk about the sleep of the dead. Is that what death would feel like? The nicest, warmest, heaviest never-ending nap? If that's what it's like, I wouldn't mind. If that's what dying is like, I wouldn't mind that at all.

And our lips. There isn't enough skin, enough spit, enough time, for the lost years that our lips are trying to make up for as they find each other. We kiss. The electric current switches to high. The lights throughout all of Brooklyn must be surging.

It's just accidental, just temporary. Until the next accident sends me somewhere new. That's how life works.

Then I smell the sweat on him, a clean musky scent that I'd bottle and wear as perfume if I could.

he kissed me hard. "Promise me. Promise me you'll spend New Year's with me next year," he whispered into my ear.