The law of the conservation of energy states that energy may be neither created nor destroyed.
I put words together in enthusiastic spurts at the beginning of the summer and over the past few weeks. Here was one - maybe not that - oh, yes, this very one - plucked from blue-grey haze.
Selected or not, they were all ready to laugh after I'd finally righted myself from getting lost on a straight line on a beach. They smile each time I fail my "need to be obscure" and choose something honest and, yes, emotional. They have rushed to surround me - words of all colors and inflections - each time I returned in tears.
Sometimes they pace with me, keeping me company - telling the same stories to soothe me. Other times, they cringe - so much noise, so little sense. Sometimes they dance outside of my open-then-shut mouth, hoping for once I'll scream.
Now I pull none.
They wait, watching.
They look up as I enter the kitchen, sweating from a run. The same songs play through my ears. The table is set for dinner. "Are you going to the gym tonight?" my mom wants to know.
"Yeah," I answer automatically.
They sit back as I dance to the same beats again again again, nod their approval.
Now it is dark and I would turn away to sleep, but they nudge my chin so that I have to look up.
We look at each other for a long while.
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