I watch the paint slowly harden. I stare intently at it. For hours and hours. Day after day. I watch it. I must see it dry. I don’t really care why I must watch it. I watch it anyway. It pays well. I could watch something else. I could use my body instead of sitting and staring all day. But then we’d be apart. And I don’t want that. So I’ll keep watching. I’d rather watch paint dry with you. Watching paint dry ain’t so bad when we do it together. Chatting while watching makes the watching better.

But, I know our time is limited. One day, one of us will watch something else. Our time will end. Would it be less special if we knew when it would end? Don’t be sad it’s over, be happy it ever happened. Let me know if you manage that. I worry I won’t be able to find someone else. But, I don’t really want to find someone else. Temporalness is tiring. We say we’ll stay in touch, but I know we won’t.

Time passes. I get used to watching without you. It gets harder to remember what it was like with you. I watch alone. I grasp at our memories as I watch alone.

Music