I don't see the redhead much anymore.
I don't think too hard about it.
None of it makes sense, but nothing has ever made sense. My life is a series of moments, loosely strung together, the connections between them like spider silk, barely visible but terribly strong. I lay on the bed and let my mind run with the analogy. Webs, and being caught in them.
I close my eyes and pray I won't dream of spiders.