Numbness set in. That awful, blank nothing that always arrived after falling apart. They wanted to sleep for a year, run a mile, eat greasy food, sit in a lukewarm shower, fuck a stranger. They wanted to shake it off and sink into it, wake up from it and take shelter in it. It would’ve been easier to let it have them for a while—that static. Would’ve been easy to turn themself off for an hour, a week, a month, another year.
