Your voice is raspy. When you talk, you mumble mostly incoherently.
"How was your day?"
"Fine, generally. Yeah, it was fine."
I am nervous, I can't stop fidgeting with my skirt. It is nice to listen to you tell stories about incredible things you observe. It is nice to hear about what you consider to be incredible.
"I am sitting cross-legged, in my boxer briefs."
"I am lying upside down, with my feet where the pillows are. I feel rebellious."
I can see out the window. In the alley, there is a ominous glow, with giant shadow people gesticulating wildly against the wall of the building adjacent to me. They are either fighting or dancing a strange dance.
I do not feel less alone, nor do I feel lonelier. You don't notice, but I've been holding my breath in various intervals to see if I can.
One of my legs is out-stretched over my head. The other lies straight on the bed in alignment with my back. If you were here right now, you would be looking up my skirt.