the clock is ticking on the mantlepiece and the house is empty and cold
it is dark, and the dogs are barking and i can't think, oh god, i can't think, because the world is imploding and the clock has stopped ticking and
it has been silent for a while now
there is no reason to panic,  I tell myself,  no reason at all
but this is a lie and while it might help me breathe better,
it won't put the bullet back inside the gun
it won't force the words back down my throat,
or put the glass on the floor back together
the walls are on fire and the glass is sizzling, and red-hot
the smell of blood - yours, probably - is thick and strong and metallic
the walls are on fire and i can't think, can't even breathe, because the smell of blood is,
quite frankly, overwhelming.
and then i blink and i'm back here, in the kitchen,
and you're staring at me like i'm something interesting,
like i'm not a worthless scrap that the dog just brought in,
but i can tell something's still wrong because you're talking but the words
don't quite register
and then everything comes spinning back to earth, and you're still talking
only i can hear you now
and you're telling me that it's not okay, it's not right, you've had enough and you're leaving now
and it only takes me a moment to realize
that the whole world is currently wearing a plaid button-down and old jeans with
a hole in one of the knees
that the whole world smells like apples and laundry soap
it only takes me a moment to realize that the whole world resides in a three pound brain piloting
rather attractive meatsuit
it only takes me a moment to realize that the whole world is walking out the door
and that he probably isn't coming back