i remember this place

It’s dark and cold in here. There’s just enough light coming in through the window to see the empty pizza box lying open on the floor. I guess I wasn’t the last person here. The echo is a bit unnerving, and the crickets don’t exactly take the edge of it either. Most of the mirrors are missing or broken. I think it smells vaguely like urine, but that could just be a case of paranoid synesthesia.

This is one of the many times I wish I smoked cigarettes. That, at least, would give me an excuse to stand around and look at things. As it is, I don’t know how long I should stay. Like the day I walked around my grandmother’s house before it was sold. That transition between mine and not mine. That transition between now and forever. I remember being absorbed until becoming aware of the thought that I “should” go. It wasn’t true, objectively. I could have stayed until the police dragged me away, if I’d really wanted. But shoulds are very comforting.

I just realized that I’ve been standing here with my eyes open, but not really noticing my surroundings. It’s a good thing I wasn’t attacked by a ferocious tiger, because I’m not certain I would have responded in time. Close call, really.

I guess there’s no reason to stay. There’s no reason to leave either, other than to resolve the ambivalence. I’ll leave a note, in case anyone else wanders in. “Hello friend. Two human paths have crossed in this place. I would never say this to your face, but I genuinely hope you are well, and free of fear, and appreciative not only of the joy you bring to other people, but of the fact that you were NOT attacked by a ferocious tiger today. Take care.”