We talked like time and distance were never between us. It had been four years, thousands of miles, plenty of mistakes, loves and losses, and they meant absolutely nothing during that humid long walk through the winding neighborhoods.
You always wanted to be a Japanese mailman driving around narrow streets with a photocopied map and a box of important things.
Your toe was bleeding and so was your knee. You were scared some unknown river creature would smell your blood in the water and take out both of your legs. You're so afraid to lose your limbs.
You stayed up too late and drank too much, crashed at a friends apartment, a building you knew but never been to, and woke up dirty with a view of your hometown you've never seen before.