This near-irresistible urge to grab the pipe cleaner and shove it down my throat. Anything to get rid of that itch way down there at the junction of my lungs.
Half-consciously salivating all over the bed. Every breath is a sigh.
They're calling from the other side, but I'm not coming. Yet.
I've thought about that for like half an hour now, and I'm sure. Faced with the choice over staying and leaving, I would leave now. No regrets.
But they're not calling anymore.