There was a collision at the intersection by our house, before you left. Your hands were above your head, making out the shape of a car.

“I could see the man as he split in two,” you said. “He was air and atoms and you and I were still alone.”

Ages ago, Gary Emmette Chandler attended college for Creative Writing. Now, he spends his spare time drinking too much, writing about failure, and generally trying to outpace a landslide of student loans. You can follow his hungover ramblings on Twitter, @TheWearyLuddite. Or not. That’s okay too.