#&alone

L O N E L IN E S S stuck to his ribs like HONEY, coating his insides REFUSING to b u d g e. It settled like rocks thrown into a still pond, SINKING deep and LEAVING i n d e n t s in the GRITTY bottom of his soul. The silent PHONE that sat poised beneath his FINGERTIPS left him feeling ALONE, pain s h o o t i n g through his ribs with each inhale. As he pulled up STRANGER’S window, he considered WHETHER or not to m e s s a g e. What if the stranger had finally gotten SICK of him? It was POSSIBLE they didn't K N O W much about one another, other than what they spoke, and while he felt CONNECTED to the stranger, that didn't MEAN this would last forever. He hadn't HEARD from him in some time, and it made him WONDER if he’d imagined their ENTIRE interaction at times. 

While he was A R O U N D people daily with WORK and  with the gallery, as of LATE, it was D I F F E R EN T than when he had gotten to s p e a k with the stranger. None of the P E O P L E he was surrounded with UNDERSTOOD him in the same way that HE had. None of them l i s t e n e d or CARED to the same extent. None of them MADE him feel wanted. It was a S T R A N G E feeling, realizing that. Knowing that no matter how much he TRIED,the feeling he got -- the CHEMISTRY he experienced when he spoke to the stranger -- was u n m at c h a b l e. 

He hadn't W A N T E D to get attached. Didn't WANT to think about when he would next TALK to him, didn't want to hope that it could LAST. Somehow, it had C R E P T in anyway.

G i v i n g  i n, he began to TYPE.

                        TEXT: Hello, poet. Checking in to make sure your liver                                    is still functioning and your sanity is intact. How                                    did the job hunt go?

               ~> S E N D