Monica’s been thinking about falling again. Some people refer to it as a jump.
Monica believes that falling sounds much more graceful. Besides, who jumps asleep?
When Monica falls, she widens her arms and turns her head.
He had a similar grace to thunder. Long lightning limbs. Every time they touched she saw silver-blue.
It didn’t remind her of how you float. How you drift through the breeze stuffing pockets full of clouds. She once drew how you move in liquid gold ink across handmade paper.
She kept it.
Monica dreams in color. The first time she saw you, you were wearing an indigo shirt with violet stitches. Her eyes reminded you of the inside of an oyster shell you discovered on Sandringham Beach.
There’s a secret to plunging deep enough. Know where you are going before you close your eyes. Monica tends to travel upward.
He isn’t home much. He packs his lunch and eats the same thing every day. He takes lunch at twelve with the other three security guards. He drives a cheap car and drinks cheap beer.
He and Monica love each other very much.
She doesn’t think you should visit anymore.