Too Late, Hayes — The Sketchbook Encounter

Getting rid of some things I don't need. Morgana and I are staying at the downtown apartment now. It's quieter there. Quieter?

So without me, that's what quiet means. Can I still come to your birthday party? This would be the tenth year. No need. I should have known. But even when you've let go, a cold word can still cut deep.

I'd already thrown away the torn confession painting. All that was left was this old sketchbook, and every page was filled with Hugo. He said he would take me home. He said I was his glory. To your eyed-eyed-erdish, a jingly manchandran wait for me to grow up.

Now I know that gentle words, once they lose their meaning, can also become Are you drunk? Before I could step back, his steaming breath was already on me. Morgana, be good.

In that moment, my mind went completely blank. The dream I'd had countless times over ten years was happening in the most ironic way possible.