If You Can Reach Me Through the Fog.

A short story.

If you can reach me through the fog, I’ll probably be angrily cutting open the easy-open cheese because I can’t figure it out.

If you can reach me through the fog, I’ll probably tell you I love you and shower you with kisses.

I’ll probably mumble in my sleep about how my skin is on fire.

I’ll either need loud noises or complete silence.

Possibly, I’ll be trying to decide whether to relax or clean.

I’ll be wondering if I’m singing a song I made up, or a song I’ve already heard.

If you can reach me through the fog, I’ll probably be muttering a spell I cast in some past life, the same spell I used to convince people I wasn’t a witch.

If you can reach me through the fog, I’ll be eating a mushroom like a burger, and I’ll be with all my past lovers in a museum of where we met.

A field, full of paintings.

A bar, two crushed souls in a bathroom.

The office, side-eye flirting.

A bookstore, picking out music.

The ocean, struggling to kiss between waves.

I can tell you that I’ll definitely be in a parking lot, crying, and struggling to figure out where to go next.

I’ll have the same movie playing in the background, but I won’t be listening.

I’ll be working on carving a more perfect soul out of the muddy materials I’ve been given.

My eyes might be red and puffy. I might ache from deep in my chest, I might need a warm blanket. I might need to be hushed. Held.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll be dancing alone. I still consider myself in the in-between phase. Not good enough to perform, but I still feel like all the gods are watching.

If you bother to claw to where I am, you’ll find I’m not scared of demons.

If you can reach me through the fog, grab my hand and clear the air. Fill the air with something that smells good.

Tell me if I’m hungry. I won’t be able to tell, that far in.

And when the fog is gone, and I’ve had enough food and water, and you’ve convinced me that just because I’m not scared of demons, doesn’t mean I have to play with them…then let’s head to the beach.

Maybe.

Related posts:

Icharus and his Dad are escaping an island using wings made from wax. Icharus is warned not to fly too close to the sun (so the wings don’t melt). Icharus disobeys. His wings melt. He falls into the…

Running the daily operations of your real estate investments can be very time consuming and detail oriented. However, without a contract in place to ensure you get paid, you have very little…

This Earth Month was a great one for me. I finally was able to extend my network and work with people in my community to help implement tools and create processes for change. Typically, I focus on…