My sun, now stardust
The man with the monster eye touches your hand with his claw, the ridges of the obsidian base fitting perfectly against your fleshy own, and he says, “Stop me if you’ve heard this one…”
And you suck it in for an immediate rebuttal, readying comebacks like loading bullets into a ready barrel but the words shrivel and die in your throat as echoes of another life catch up to you like a tired runner and you’re not sure if you should be saying hi or welcome back or, with the look of the things you’re half-remembering, fuck off.
He meant a lot to you, once. You were the light of his life, once. Now, there are universes between you two, entire galaxies breaking and forming into new shapes, pushing you two further and further away but meeting again for a brief moment with this slight touch of hands and you wonder. You wonder if he recognizes you too.
“Heaven must be missing an angel.” And he’s missing a piece of himself. You decide to redeem him in this life so you smile at him dismissively and leave you two as separate entities, choosing to exist in him as nothing but smoke and barely a flicker of a memory. He could stand to be cold another night.
