Bridge

Movies don't work. Or maybe they work too well. So well that you start to think life can actually be like that. You'll actually be able to think of whatever it is that you can say that will make someone stay, make someone love you, make someone change their mind, or make someone understand you. Real life is never that fulfilling. There is nothing you can say or do to make things come out right. They only continue on the same path as before, as if you weren't standing in the middle of the road waving your arms like a lunatic. You got run down like roadkill.
He called. I answered. I was glad to talk to him. Because he reached out and found me. I'd been watching TV. Ironic, isn't it, that I was watching a show about building a massive bridge. But I already knew all about it. A bridge built by the same people who built the World Trade Center. It is definitely a feat to build something that joins people together and resists the forces that conspire to destroy it. Links. All it takes for people to link is a fiber optic cable or a mysterious tower emitting mysterious waves. Or pen and paper. But reinforcing the bridge takes more effort. More time. More care. Some days it seems almost impossible. It would be easier to shut down and leave the gap. Sad. Sadder still to be alone and isolated. For us both. The incoherency of our respective losses seems to join us irreversibly. There is no "us". There is me. There is he. And there is we.