[ tuck ] to place a blanket on my muse.
Bradley laid in June’s bed, dark hair flowing around her shoulders like spiders. June had read something once about liminal spaces, how the lonely aisle at the grocery store and the empty gas station around the corner had its own magical quality about them. These places were temporary, separate from reality where you would float aimlessly. An inbetween threshold. This is what it felt like to be around Bradley sometimes -- the two of them mirroring each other through ways that were both hazed and clear. Somehow it felt like they were on two spectrums of the same prism, the two heads of a dragon.
The liminal space around them was the soft moonlight flowing through June’s curtains as Bradley lay asleep. Her phone was lit, blue LED screen reading 4:31 am. Real existential hours, June thought to herself, scrolling mindlessly through a world that was half asleep on her laptop. She looked towards the sleeping girl and her quiet grimace. June wondered what it was like to live inside Bradley’s body, and she wasn’t sure if it would be worse or better than being in her own. Shutting her laptop, she crawled next to the girl and pulled the comforter over them, allowing the occasional sounds of cars on the street lull them to somewhere safer.
