It happened again: the sky was overcast and so black in the night. My apartment looked as corroded as ever, and dark as the bricks crumbled from its surface. I watched the clouds swim through the sky a hundred miles a second like they always do in those nature documentary shows on the discovery channel. Walking up the steps I entered the shadowy lobby to meet Harry, my old Chinese brother. He looked tired, and of course worn out. He began to speak to me in a dull tone I couldn’t understand. He was going away. The glazed look in his eyes betrayed the tears he was holding back.

“What’s wrong? You’re one of the only people that make this town worth living in. But I don’t live here anyway…” I recalled as I said it, this wasn’t my apartment: I was visiting for the week. I had been shipped off and away earlier that year.

“I’m sorry man, I just have to go.” He said shaking my hand and walking out the cracked lobby door.

The paint never looked so old. I slowly trudged up the stairs, three days into my visit; this city was blanketed with sadness. The door to our flat was open and I entered, the only light coming in through the kitchen window, a dull grey blue reflecting off the crooked morbid paintings. I went in to check on Der and found her lying on the bed, the sheets wrapped around her beautiful form. I leaned against the doorframe smiling down upon her, remembering…

“Come lay with me love,” cooed her soft and lovely voice, as she smoothly slid to make room for me. I rested myself against her, putting my arms around her. “I’ve missed you,” we seemed to say. My hand came to rest on her stomach, ever so soft, and ever so warm. So warm it burnt my icy hands, cold as winter they rest upon her sharing her energy, and gaining some warmth.