Raven hair tangled around years-old weather vanes. The fattening of clouds as an analogy. Impulsive phone calls couched in sophomoric sophistry. A voice on the other line shouts it's blindness, and the line goes dead. The storm of silence arrives after an interminable wait. Inevitability, with a vacuum-void at the crescendo. The will be no legacy left of quirky dialogue, and regrettably similar childhoods.

11:15 p.m. - 2018-12-10