you left, I was still standing on the platform. I watched the train go away and then she was standing there. She looked at me, she finished her cigarette, she dropped it on the ground and then she went back to the ticket booth.
It was the only butt still smoking. I took it. I still have it.
I have to keep it because I donât remember you anymore. Not like I used to. The image of you isnât vivid anymore. I donât remember what your breathing is like, the feel of your hair or the way you hold things in your hands. I try and all that is there is me, sitting on this bed, in this room.
I hold the cigarette butt in my hand. It is all that I have. I have to love it. Itâs supposed to help me remember but itâs just a cigarette butt. It doesnât.
This is stupid.
I want to watch you again, Emile. I want to sit here with my legs curled up under me. I want to watch you working.
You sat on the floor with your puppets. You had their strings in your hands and the way that you held your hands up in the air looked so stupid. And you didnât care. You had to do it, to make them move. That was what mattered to you.
They were bits of wood tied together with string. You painted faces on them and dressed them up in clothes but they were still just bits of wood tied together with string.
And you made them move.
I remember before I knew you. I had heard about you. The strange boy from the city. No one knew what you were doing here. There were rumours, there were so many rumours, but no one knew.
I wanted to know.
I wasnât supposed to see you. You told Mr. Koch that you did not want to be disturbed and he did his best to keep you from being disturbed. I snuck up the stairs when the store was busy.
Youâd left your door open.
It was summer and hot out, you needed to leave your door open.
I crept up the stairs and I looked into your room. I stood with my hands against the door frame and one eye peeping in at you.
You were sitting in the middle of the room with your puppets. You had one dangling from each hand. They were moving. I had never seen anything like it before. They were just puppets. They shouldnât have been anything special. But I had never really seen puppets before. Not standing right in front of me, moving.
I laughed.
You heard me and you stopped. I didnât want you to stop. I didnât want you to drop the puppets. It was horrible to see them go limp. It was like they were dead. I said, Please. Donât stop. You wouldnât look at me. You looked like you wanted to hide.
I said, Please.
One of the puppets jerked its head. It started to stand up. It bent down to help the other one. I laughed again. I stood in the doorway and I clapped my hands and I laughed.
I sat and I watched you until it was dark. I went home and I had to explain where I had been. I lied. And I came back. Again and again, I came back.
You touched me, eventually.
Youâre just a boy, thereâs nothing special about you. Nothing. Just that I wanted you. I donât know why I did, I donât know if there was a reason or if it just happened. I donât know if thatâs enough of a reason. I wanted you. I started to realize that I wanted you. That was all. I wanted to touch you.
Iâm trying to remember you. We touched each other. I donât know if it means anything. I want it to. I donât know if thatâs enough.
I need it to. Iâm sitting on your bed now. I need it to mean something. Iâm not strong enough, Emile. Itâs stupid. I feel so stupid. I donât know how long I can do this.
I need to be stronger than this.
I am sitting on your bed. You touched me here. We stood close to each other and you looked at me. I took your hand. I put your hand on my face.
It has to mean something that you touched me. I need to make it mean something. Iâm going to go to bed now, Emile. I have to be up early, I need to go to sleep.
I donât want to. I hate
It was the only butt still smoking. I took it. I still have it.
I have to keep it because I donât remember you anymore. Not like I used to. The image of you isnât vivid anymore. I donât remember what your breathing is like, the feel of your hair or the way you hold things in your hands. I try and all that is there is me, sitting on this bed, in this room.
I hold the cigarette butt in my hand. It is all that I have. I have to love it. Itâs supposed to help me remember but itâs just a cigarette butt. It doesnât.
This is stupid.
I want to watch you again, Emile. I want to sit here with my legs curled up under me. I want to watch you working.
You sat on the floor with your puppets. You had their strings in your hands and the way that you held your hands up in the air looked so stupid. And you didnât care. You had to do it, to make them move. That was what mattered to you.
They were bits of wood tied together with string. You painted faces on them and dressed them up in clothes but they were still just bits of wood tied together with string.
And you made them move.
I remember before I knew you. I had heard about you. The strange boy from the city. No one knew what you were doing here. There were rumours, there were so many rumours, but no one knew.
I wanted to know.
I wasnât supposed to see you. You told Mr. Koch that you did not want to be disturbed and he did his best to keep you from being disturbed. I snuck up the stairs when the store was busy.
Youâd left your door open.
It was summer and hot out, you needed to leave your door open.
I crept up the stairs and I looked into your room. I stood with my hands against the door frame and one eye peeping in at you.
You were sitting in the middle of the room with your puppets. You had one dangling from each hand. They were moving. I had never seen anything like it before. They were just puppets. They shouldnât have been anything special. But I had never really seen puppets before. Not standing right in front of me, moving.
I laughed.
You heard me and you stopped. I didnât want you to stop. I didnât want you to drop the puppets. It was horrible to see them go limp. It was like they were dead. I said, Please. Donât stop. You wouldnât look at me. You looked like you wanted to hide.
I said, Please.
One of the puppets jerked its head. It started to stand up. It bent down to help the other one. I laughed again. I stood in the doorway and I clapped my hands and I laughed.
I sat and I watched you until it was dark. I went home and I had to explain where I had been. I lied. And I came back. Again and again, I came back.
You touched me, eventually.
Youâre just a boy, thereâs nothing special about you. Nothing. Just that I wanted you. I donât know why I did, I donât know if there was a reason or if it just happened. I donât know if thatâs enough of a reason. I wanted you. I started to realize that I wanted you. That was all. I wanted to touch you.
Iâm trying to remember you. We touched each other. I donât know if it means anything. I want it to. I donât know if thatâs enough.
I need it to. Iâm sitting on your bed now. I need it to mean something. Iâm not strong enough, Emile. Itâs stupid. I feel so stupid. I donât know how long I can do this.
I need to be stronger than this.
I am sitting on your bed. You touched me here. We stood close to each other and you looked at me. I took your hand. I put your hand on my face.
It has to mean something that you touched me. I need to make it mean something. Iâm going to go to bed now, Emile. I have to be up early, I need to go to sleep.
I donât want to. I hate
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