No way you’re going to give this stranger your real name.“Where are you from?”“Nashville,” you lie again.“What brings you to Memphis?”�...Looking to meet someone.” Which is technically not a lie, but definitely not the full truth.“Someone special,” he asks?“Maybe,” you reply a little too coyly.He looks a little puzzled, but says nothing more.You’re not sure how to start, but you feel like doing something to break the silent tension.“It’s a little warm,” you say while pulling off your coat.You can. Then why would I think about him. Perhaps because it was him or the delirium: multicolored pillows falling from the ceiling and plastic wrapped action figure toys on the floor. I knew when it was coming: the axe falling. The falling axe that will cut through the beam of sunlight from the window, catch all of it in its blinding glint.There was that last one of those chocolate milkshake tetrapacks in the fridge. I could sip on that for a while. It came back to my posture on the couch- legs high. More

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