Modest waves of water washed over the marbles. Minor puddles formed in my cupped palms. The creek had been flooded lately, but my grandmother still planned on doing the scavenger hunt.
What is this? How is it that I’m here?
It’s unreasonably dark, and I’m asking myself questions to which no one knows the answer.
Why does the sky remind me of tears, and why am I crying right now? How deep is the color black? Does it coat your soul? How does that star look exactly like his smile and those galaxies in her eyes?
Am I in the universe, or am I around it? Is it in me?
Why does the air sink in my chest this way? How come it’s so cold? Does the music play in her head like this, too?
Can you hear it?
Are you listening?
Does the rhythm guide you as well? Is it taking you to tonight?
Are you falling asleep?