my shorts stuck to the back of my thighs as I walked up the brick steps. I hear the brakes of the bus sigh as they are released. I grab the rusted door handle and look through the spider-webbed window. I step in and the cold air stings my face and seeks into my nostrils and travels down the back of my throat. I see you passed out face first on the couch. I envy the feeling you have, the sweat being dried against the cool black leather. What relief that must be Like a cold bath after a fever breaks. I know your fever is rising but you won't say it.
but your silence and opened pill bottles tell me everything while you're asleep.