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The Bronx

You can smell things so much stronger when its hot out. Jet exhaust, garbage, and old taxi leather. If it's as hot as it is today you can almost taste it. I've never flown alone before, so after two hours on the train I think maybe I'll take it a few stops further. Maybe I can savor this freedom for a little while longer.

Alone in the Bronx sweat rises from the pavement. It's hard to breath. I've talked to her almost every night. We shared our deepest fears with one another. Basked in each other's flaws. Marveled in the darkness at the bright images displayed on our monitors. Scattered pixels approximate her skin, her hair, her eyes - always looking down, never connected. I asked her to look at the camera - for that moment it felt like heroin. We took turns looking at the lens so that the other could get their fix.
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