The Currents You Create

Collide

EMMA

"It all crept up on you, in the night it got you, And plagued your mind, it plagues your mind
Every day it passes faster than the last did, And you'll be old, soon you'll be old...
You're under the weight of living. You're under the weight of living ."~The Weight of Living Part 2, Bastille

I looked intently at the black and white photo. Wow, how amazing. They look like little lima beans. I chuckled to myself. Two tiny, blurry, little figures sat side by side in the picture. It was too early to know the sexes.

I looked over my budget. Rent, Mom and Dad's debt, chemo, TWO babies.

"God, how am I going to do this?" I leaned back in my chair and covered my face with my hands. Even if I hadn't quit my job, I would barely be scraping by. I laid my forehead on the table and closed my eyes.

I was really starting to feel more and more lethargic from both the cancer and the pregnancy. I dozed off to be awoken by a tickle in my nose. I raised my head suddenly and blood began to drip all over my papers.

"Shit! No!" I moaned.

I cupped my hand under the blood pouring out my nose. I ran to the bathroom and washed my face and hands off with soapy water. Blood stained my white sweater, and the snowmen on the front looked like some sort of vampire mutant creatures.

My nose bleeds were getting out of control and I was starting to soil clothes with stains more frequently.

After I changed my clothes, I began to clean up the blood from my papers. My heart stopped; I found Kyle's letter. Suddenly I was frightened. Didn't I shred this? I looked around for the trash can, and started digging frantically searching for the letter I had ripped to pieces in anger. There. There they are. Little pieces of Kyle's letter fell out of the trash bag like confetti. I looked back at the whole replica of the body of his letter. Panic welled within me.

I set the complete letter down on the floor and started rearranging the pieces of the shredded one next to it. They were both written with the same hand writing, and they lacked any difference what so ever, even the subtle differences as expected from two letters written by the same author. They were exactly the same.

Did I just miss this when I opened the envelope? Were there two of the same pages? No. Maybe if he had printed these electronically he could have accidentally included two copies, but both letters where hand written.

I flipped the letters over to see the back sides. The back of the shredded letter was blank. I turned over the whole letter. On the back were scribbled words. The hand writing wasn't mine and it wasn't Kyle's. The words read,

"This is how."

KYLE

"I hear you calling in the dead of night.

You lean towards despair, Any given opportunity you're there.

But what is there to gain, When you're always falling off the fence that way?

Words are all we have; We'll be talking. We'll be talking"~ Overjoyed, Bastille

February 1st, we just finished a concert and the rest of the crew was off drinking, but I didn't quite trust myself with alcohol. I headed to the bus and had an early night. Every once in a while I could hear one of the guys return and slump into bed.