D: FILE 0002

When I met Erik, she was peeling a fruit strip away from the outside of her crocheted bag. It was made out of clear transfer cables. The strap was 2 ends twisted around each other. I only saw her use it once to transfer a history pack to a storage brick that she had inside. The fruit strip glowed pink in the dark lights of the club. I always assumed it was watermelon flavored.

She used to live in a building a few blocks from mine. Close enough to walk, if you cut through the parking garage and come out through the Mantis Spa.

If you take the street you have to go North and then East really far and it's scary to walk on the overpass anyway.

But the street exit at Mantis is right by this path through someone's garden. I asked them once if it was okay if I walked through their garden. They didn't really understand so I took it as a yes and smiled and waved at their camera each time I passed through just in case they were watching.

I can remember the edge of this memory- the first time I led her through my short cut. I remember stoping through in my big shoes and dragging my huge, heavy pants with each step, the waist falling down one of my hips. "Then you turn here..... then you turn here." I said, over and over- feeling like each turn was a secret.

I remember she was telling me that she has to get new glasses because her vision is constantly changing And it will keep changing the older she gets. So when we are adults, she will see the world totally different than she does now.

That fact horrified me.

We hadn't seen each other in years.

We sent messages to each other.

Exchanged updates, complaints, pictures of boyfriends but it was nothing like actually being there.

Online, we didn't have much to say. Facts of how our lives were different only got as far as they would with a relative or a co-worker. https://neocities.org/site_files/text_editor/D/file_D0002.html#

But being right there in front of each other again, actually hearing her voice and seeing her face, everything fell out.

It felt like all the miles and all the years dissolved.

Instantly, there was so much more to say.

Feelings and jokes and theories and memories.

Observations and questions and "have you been?"s.

"Have you seen?"s

"There is this"s

There wasn't enough time in the day to say it all.

We didn't want to sleep because we couldn't stand to waste a second.

Our faces were sore from laughing and our voices worn from talking.

I felt unhinged when I sat down on a crowded train late at night heading back to the city. I kept hearing her voice behind me. I couldn't make out what she was saying.

But it was unmistakenly her accent and cadence. It was like she left a voice print in my ears.