It's late.
You're walking through a neighbourhood where you used to live.
People around you are having a nice time.
You have somewhere to be...
[[but you're not in a hurry.]]
[[and you're already so late that you're dreading getting there.]]You decide to stop and have a drink. At someplace that you wouldn't ever have stopped when you lived there.
You want to feel something, and that something is "kind of stupid."
[[It's nice to feel stupid.]]
[[You regret this immediately.]]Walking home alone at night is the most you ever feel in control.
But lately, it's never what you're supposed to be doing.
[[You're disappointing someone.]]The people around you give you the silent respect you're entitled to as a solo traveler.
You like this. You're always pleasantly surprised that this feeling is so easy to grab hold of.
[[ It's nice to feel stupid.]]
[[ Oops, you felt slightly too stupid. ]]The people around you give you the silent respect you're entitled to as a solo traveler.
This sucks, as it reminds you that you've never liked going out alone, and it's only through your own meandering narcissism that you came to this bar, where you now feel a responsibility to at least finish your one drink like a normal person.
You are going to do your best.
[[ Oops, you felt slightly too stupid. ]]Right. This part is not great.
A few excuses run through your mind, each of them pitiful:
"The damage is already done."
"I needed some space; better now than later."
"It would've been worse if I actually showed up."
This isn't working and you know it. Better to reset expectations.
[[but you're not in a hurry.]]On second thought, you're kind of a shmuck.
Look around you. This is not the kind of place that people go to reminisce. The bartender looks like they feel bad for you -- but they definitely don't want to talk about it -- and you're suddenly hyper-aware of trying not to seem like a sad sack.
You wish you had to pee, just for something to do.
[[ Maybe cut your losses. ]]
[[ No way. You are going to redeem this one. ]]Get a load of you. Real Raymond Carver over here.
You should go to bars on your own late at night more often!
You're going to settle in to this feeling.
[[Even if it lasts an hour?]]You get the bill. You tip too much. It redeems you totally and completely. You confidently stride outside.
*Now* you have to pee.
[[There's no way to recapture your youth like public urination!]]You finish your beer and drink three more. This does not improve your mood, but the bartender starts to seem a lot more interested in you. You worry that you have accidentally solved a very troubling puzzle.
You get the bill. You tip too much. It redeems you totally and completely. You confidently stride outside.
*Now* you have to pee.
[[There's no way to recapture your youth like public urination!]]You make your way over to an alley that you used to smoke in. You position yourself expertly behind an old dumpster.
The people around you once again give you the silent respect you're entitled to as a solo traveler.
It strikes you that this respect is maybe not so different from wariness, specifically of someone who is clearly about to pee behind a dumpster.
[[Except... maybe they think you have drugs? And they're trying to be cool about it?]]Oh no, not Yo La Tengo lyrics.
See, this is what happens when you fly too close to the sun.
[[ Oops, you felt slightly too stupid. ]]You put yourself back together and walk the short distance to your old building.
It was chilly earlier, wasn't it?
[[You look at the front door, and at the windows. You inhale.]]What? No. Are you kidding? Come on.
You get self-conscious and look too long at the dumpster.
You recall a fuzzy memory of looking at this dumpster.
[[You think about where you used to live.]][[You look up and down the block, and remember what it was like to look up and down the block.]]You remember the day you moved out.
[[You were ready to go.]]
[[You were sad to go.]]You're so much smarter than you were then, it's hard even to imagine what was going through your mind.
You're also a lot -- a *lot* -- more tired.
The leaving itself wasn't bad. The good part is always in the doing.
[[There was no way you were going to stay.]]You're so much smarter than you were then, it's hard even to imagine what was going through your mind.
You're also a lot -- a *lot* -- more tired.
The leaving itself wasn't bad. The good part is always in the doing.
[[There was no way you were going to stay.]]Yeah, yeah. No theoretical future to indulge here.
Even so. Fair to say you're in a mood. Why waste it?
Under no circumstances do you want anyone of your old neighbours to recognize you. You do not have an answer for what you're doing and you don't want to think of one.
[[You try the front door.]]It opens.
Really?
Dammit.
This is all a bit on the nose all of a sudden.
[[You head inside.]]Every step you take freshly scrambles your thoughts.
*You are trespassing*, you remind yourself. It's not very effective.
You can't hear anyone moving around at all. That's funny, you think. It isn't that late.
[[You go upstairs.]]What do you think you're going to see?
This is definitely crossing a line.
Real Raymond Carver over here.
You close your eyes a moment and steady yourself.
The memories are not, at this point, all good ones.
[[A little farther.]]There. That's the door.
OK, enough of this. You aren't trying to scare anyone.
It is pretty late after all.
Should you... knock?
No.
[[You knock.]]Probably no one is even in there.
You have done something utterly strange and irresponsible.
You should go.
[[You hear footsteps on the other side of the door.]]You can't tell if they're getting closer, until they definitely are.
They stop at the door for a moment.
[[The door opens.]]