A sudden pang of longing hit me, of riding the metro at night, singing along with Brandon Flowers while fighting the current existential angst. Then I find myself moving along with the crowd having a separate sense of urgency.
I walk slowly towards inevitability, the curbside lined with thoughts of jumping off the ledge of this certainty.
The longing passes, except for the ache. Mr. Flowers sang that dreams aren't what they used to be. It's now dark again. I'm there. I'm always there in the end.
If the answer is no, can I change your mind?
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