As I turned to a familiar canine eared mark,
a sense of warmth stifled my breathing.

The skin on my thumbs became raw
Pulsated with the beat of my heart,
While rubbing against the worn paper.

The raised ink of each letter
Smoothed out softly
Underneath the pressure of my fingers.

The smell of old rain clinging to the dying foliage:

Intoxication.

The sounding of thunder drew my senses to attention.

Hairs and synapses standing, saluting at the ready all in neat formation

Memories and narrative flooded my mind with delusions of love, anger, and sorrow;

As only it could.