9. 1:00 p.m. - 1:30 p.m.

laur,

i'm trying to recall the exact instant i knew that you loved me. i wonder if it was the in the elevator at Bloor Station. your tender gesture, an automatic reaction to the fear of the sudden stop. do you remember the ride? that ridiculous car we were in? mid-renovation, walls lined in cardboard with cutouts to let the buttons breathe.

someone had Sharpied in a fragment we later found out was buk:

Some of the best often die by their own hand, just to get away. And those left behind often wonder why anyone would ever want to get away from them.º

you pulled out an eyeliner and we started to play. i drew a duck in short pants and a dog that you thought was an aligator. you wrote the word HOAX and underlined the O and the X.

i don't remember how long we were in there or anything else that we scrawled, but later that day, back at my house, we slept together for the first time, side by side. afternoon sun was outside the window. the neighbours chatter--like characters in a Williams' play--came through soft and vauge, like a fever or a daydream.º

it was the first time i realized how fragile you are. watching you sleep like that, surrendered. vunerable next to me. unawares. i wanted to kiss you but didn't want anything to change. i was still. you seemed to be breathing for both of us. i watched, drifting in and out of sleep.

now, here i am all broken-hearted,º thinking of cardboard elevators and missed opportunities.

d.

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