down with the leaves

The other day I went to keep a friend of mine company on an errand. We stepped into the elevator of a highrise office building.

"What floor?" I asked.

"Forty-seven".

My heart jumped. I broke out in a sweat. The number caught me off guard. All I could think about were people trapped, hanging from windows, jumping to their deaths.

The elevator shook ever so slightly and my ears popped. I swallowed hard. When we got to the floor I pretended to listen while my friend made small talk with the receptionist.

A couple days later the news of the plane crashing into a building seemed surreal. Poor Yankee. The rest of the day was filled with rain and grey sky. Why has it rained more in the fall than it ever does in the spring? It's a big lie, those April showers. People should just tell it like it is. The rains come in October and November and the only purpose I can see is to rain down those leaves, those slippery dead leaves.

And so because of the dampness and the desperate fear, it was hard for me to be that fun girl, later that night, when the new guy pulled up in his sleek black car. Where our last date seemed perfect, I was unable to maintain the momentum (as if it was all up to me).

It feels like it is.

I've had enough. I'm sad and I'm tired and I'm lonely, and in case you haven't noticed, not in the productive way.

Look, I'm really trying here. I am.