WHERE HEAT LAMPS MEET

I'll tell you about the upper parts of her ideas of lowered looks into it the way to rumble behind us rushing into things books purchased and forgotten skipped when they were young more presentable then plastic bins larger now for coffins for the dead ends of our imagination tried to go beyond the furniture and broke the window cracked glass smirks at us behind us rushing into things books purchased and forgotten skipped when they were young more presentable then plastic bins larger now for coffins for the dead ends of our imagination tried to go beyond the furniture and broke the window cracked glass smirks at us behind us rushing the wind the blood out through our outstretched arms lowering to the bottom that has fallen out lowering to the bottom lowering lowered looks into it the way to rumble behind us rushing the wind the blood with each note tapping in her ears her hair still now I'll tell you I'll tell about the box that had the shoes once filled with sore feet tilted in the direction of moving on dealing and getting over it catapulted towards the side of the building about the third or fifth floor why only prime numbers you may ask as you walk away it may have slipped your mind to ask how long she lasted we may have neglected to ask the question how long any of us has lasted overstayed this unwelcome visit a department a division neighborhood planet with a hostile bedside manner.

They heard something downstairs and each of them distracted themselves with area codes from their earlier years taking turns distracting themselves with types of elevators conventional hydraulic, hole-less hydraulic, roped hydraulic, traction, geared traction, gear-less traction, machine room-less, and ones with an elevator operator. They listened hopelessly to the silence upstairs and each of them distracted themselves with their least favorite foods taking turns distracting themselves with cold people and the utterances they had wasted on them. They heard something downstairs and each of them distracted themselves with struggles that had been minimized by others taking turns distracting themselves with the platitudes others had minimized their struggles with without hearing anything upstairs nothing upstairs.

"Are you going to check?"
"I was just about to."
"Go where?"
"Go check."
"Check where?"
"Upstairs? Downstairs?"
"Why did you say upstairs first?"
"I eventually settled on downstairs."
"When have we heard anything upstairs?"
"Only what we've been told or told ourselves."
"Never. We've never heard anything coming from upstairs."
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Ask questions when all you have to do is just say what the deal is and not drag it out."
"Because you seem to forget what the deal is and it gets frustrating."
"It's frustrating from my side of this craggy forehead."
"Are you going?"
"There's nothing now."
"Upstairs, but what about downstairs?"
"I don't really care anymore."
"Fine. I'll go myself."
"It's been it's been"
"Don't bother."
"Something I should have done more often."
"Whatever."

She dragged her cursor over the fountain that was out of service dried up discolored with weeds at its edges waiting for a link to pop up and the music stopped and then she was suddenly aware that there had been music trying to identify the style she clicked on the image and a warning emerged of potential infection she tried and hesitated to smile to herself in the darkness the headlights muffled by the thickness of the snowfall it looked so dirty in the night never mind the odd shapes of flakes a poorly made puzzle cut up and falling about them her she went to her reminders that still shined on her phone and added that they she not have to drive so slowly as they she made their her getaway that bumped into deeper clumps of teabags tissues snot pus blood each separated with monitors acrid aftermath of experience they she continued on speeding up slowing reminding as her phone's screen extinguished itself and joined the darkness and what fell about them her swallowing and ignoring the soreness in their her throat.

"How long have you been down here?"
"I've lost track."
"So it was you making that noise."
"I tried not to knock into anything."
"Really?"
"I think it's the floor down here."
"Sure, blame your clumsiness on the floor."
"I could have done that more often in my life."
"That sounds familiar."
"We're running out of things to say."

She opened the door to see what they would say now the voices on either side of the room the office the desert her face she had finished was about to finish and it had to go like this debilitated by what they would say now the voices stuck to the sides of the mixing bowl of her mind she was about to finish she was done since all sounded so familiar her age trying to desperately outpace how old everything sounded the same tired information she was so tired she opened the door to see what they would say now to see what kind of day would happen again she opened the door as she fell out of the car.

In the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she was picked up in the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she picked up where they she had left off.

"That sounds familiar."
"We're running out of things to say."
"The only thing we had in common was that we preferred the singular they."
"I had something to my name once before the ground was too hard to scratch it in with a stick. I had made $200 and took it to a bank to open an account. Life has erased so much from my memory except for how the guy carried my money like it was a little blap of shit."
"Did you hear something?"
"From downstairs?"
"Finally. I don't have to go over this with you like I did upstairs."
"Never heard anything from upstairs."
"Exactly."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Are you going?"
"Going where?"
"Going to check it out?"
"Just tell me instead of doing the asking me questions prolonged thing."
"I guess I look to comedy too much like leftovers."
"When was the last time you came across any leftovers?"
"Exactly."
"Whatever. I'll go downstairs."
"Let me if you really don't want to."
"Don't bother."
"Never mind."
"All that is on my mind these days is what if it never was."

She opened the door to see what they would say now the voices on either side of the room the office the desert her face she had finished was about to finish and it had to go like this debilitated by what they would say now the voices stuck to the sides of the mixing bowl of her mind she was about to finish she was done since all sounded so familiar her age trying to desperately outpace how old everything sounded the same tired information she was so tired she opened the door to see what they would say now to see what kind of day would happen again she opened the door as she fell out of the car.

In the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she was picked up in the middle of the road she tried and hesitated to smile to herself a stunned red grimace twitching with shock smelling of nostrils hammered by asphalt she opened the door to where it was coming from and she picked up where they she had left off.

- Max Stoltenberg