The carpets in the Trucker’s motel were dark red. At least, at the edges. The middle section all the way from the front door to the vending machine to the lift to the staircase up the stairs to the bedrooms was threadbare and grey like scar tissue over an old wound.

Red for warmth, red for class. Red for easy to clean after a violent crime.

Sometimes the world is so ugly that your heart cowers in the darkest corner it can find. It covers its face and weeps.

Circle the words you fall for.

Underline everything you want to remember.

You’ll be at home on a Saturday night flicking through the free ads.
You’ll be sending the waiter back with the wine. 
You’ll be the deer in the woods and if you’re not moving, I’ll kill you. 

Let me tell you a story, because I can’t deal with the silence. I’m going to talk to you and if you can hear me, blink that star over there. The one that looks a little blue.

I’m going to talk until you blink.

Daisy reached down and kissed me on the cheek. She touched her lips to my ear and whispered keep it safe before pulling the night sky around her like a blanket.