The performance drops in the back seat. Makeup in the window. Feet wrecked. I replay the exit I missed and still call it fun anyway.
Tag: homecoming
The performance drops in the back seat. I replay the look I should have left on. Call it a good night. Mean it halfway, barely.
Nobody believes us, least of all ourselves. Quick ones turn into last trains and a messy little story I will edit at work Monday morning.
Habit from years of it. Where the door is. Who I came with. How I get home. Then I ignore it for one last look.
We looked tight in the picture. On the platform it went quiet. That is the comedown. The story goes on the grid. Silence comes home.