The sun is hot and invasive. It's early morning and you're walking home. You just spent another night with another person you do not care about. It's the middle of summer and you wonder how the giant star above your head could be so hot, so invasive, yet so beautiful.
Your shirt starts to stick to your back in that way that makes you feel like you are wearing a band-aid. You start to smell like a band-aid. You think about your smells and her smells and the smells the both of you made together the night before. Whiskey, cigarette smoke, bodily fluids, regret, searing loneliness, the feeling of finding a quick reprieve from your pain instead of an actual solution to your problem; all of these things swirl and swim around your head.
Your phone starts to buzz. A small blue bubble asks where you went, it asks where you are. You don't even know how to answer that question. You know your physical location but you don't know where you are in your life or your career. You don't even know how to respond to this person. You know they want to see you but you know you don't want to see them again.