.

[wedieatmidnight]

It was no longer warm at deck 15. In fact the wind was blowing cold. There was a stillness foreboding the inevitable. You were standing, staring at the looming port. I was sitting beside you holding your leg. Trying to pretend the city lights were not there to take you away from me. Trying to pretend everything around us was still pitch black.

We climbed too high. I was about to fall.

God, did I hate Florida.

[wedieatmidnight]

Gillian Carter @ Mexico City. March 5, 2017.

[wedieatmidnight]

She’s swaying slightly on her feet. Swaying gently, like an old tree on an autumn morning. I’m holding her, my hands on her hips. She tilts her head and presses her forehead to my lips. The smell of her hair, a mixture of sweet perfume and cigarette; it makes me don’t want to ever let go. I can feel her, breathing on my chest, softly humming a song she doesn’t know the words to. I look up, in an attempt to scare away anyone who might be trying to peek at us. But the lights blind me, and I can only distinguish black silhouettes in the distance. It’s just the two of us, surrounded by faceless shadows. She suddenly puts her arms around my neck to steady herself. It seems all that booze is finally taking effect. We look at each other and laugh. She’s swaying slightly on her feet.