I got back to a grim apartment with the vague scent of decay in the air. Most of the shades had been left down, which may have explained the faint smell of mildew. After turning the lights on, I saw one contributor to the smell was the my few houseplants had withered into brown and yellow husks of their former selves.

There were several aspects of the apartment that had festered that I knew would only get worse if left undone. Still, none were compelling enough to stop me from collapsing onto my bed, fully dressed, not even bothering to remove my shoes.

The sleep was deeper than death. In the final stretch of the journey here, my brain had felt like a sinking ship, the crew desperately throwing overboard whatever they could to stay afloat. It was an oddly comforting image. Probably because there is so much in this head of mine that I wish I could cast off into the depths, never to be seen again.

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After I had fallen asleep, I went looking for A to no avail. Sure enough, he’s gone. I’m not sure where he went. Who really knows where we go when our time ends here. Wherever it is, I hope that he’s comfortable. I hope that he has enough time to rest. Maybe long enough for him to forgive me. Admittedly, even I have yet to fully forgive him.

I couldn’t look around for very long. That level of exhaustion was just that pressing. As I slipped into my dream, there was a moment, where I thought I heard him, but I was off before I could know for sure.

Then I was in a dream. Was it a dream, or a memory?

We were back at the airport bar, and I felt heavy. I brought the glass of beer to my lips, and it was cool, and coaxed me to drink more. I didn’t remember feeling this tired, or drunk. One more sip, then I’d call it a night. I’d sit in those uncomfortable seats at the gate and hope that I was able to get on the final flight out.