I can hear a distinct melody, catching the rise and fall of a distant cadence, the sinewy modulation of your voice. I've never really heard the meaning that trails behind your words, discarding their symbolic baggage in favor of simpler interpretations. This time is no different; my stomach clutches as I imagine the movements of your mouth shaping those words, ignoring the larger structures that house them, give them meaning beyond themselves. I can sense sadness as a chill passing through the room, lingering its hand on my shoulder; but the tingling numbness returns and I settle into its warmth.
