The (dale) reinstated

Artboy was at the gallery. He snuck up on me between the flatscreen of two naked people under a bush with a manikin's disembodied leg and someone pretending to be an artist inside a poorly constructed wooden box. He was wearing a jacket that looked new but greatly resembled his old high school jacket. He looked young and I felt my thirty heavy years of hardened muscle and sinew suspend me upright in his presence, in anyone's presence.

There is a curious open space of waiting. I am waiting to see if I am going to feel. Listening for the creak of twisting beams. I am sitting on the floor with cat and heater and cigarettes. I had coffee and cake for dinner, not feeling it necessary to race straight home for shelter. I am sitting in this wide open space of curious testing, licking my finger and holding it out for a breeze. Two more hours and I'm going to declare this building safe for habitation.

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