The ace of diamonds, the queen of clubs, the six of spades. A spiral that shines and shimmers, that tower of cards, up and up and up, the laminate of their finish sparkling white and bright like demon eyes here and there. I build a new one every day, just because. The ceiling is the limit. It feels right somehow, you know?

God I miss you. I miss your kiss, the hot shiver, that look in your eyes. My deck can’t replace it, can never ever compare, yet it helps me remember somehow. I can’t say why exactly, yet it’s so.

Solitaire is such a sweet poison.

I like walks in the rain now. Fall is here, too, but I’ll never have your coat around my shoulders again, to shield me from the chill, feel your warmth against me again, hear your promises of forever again.

I’m shooting for seventeen stories tomorrow, the kind of spiral the world has never seen. As usual I’ll start with the ace of diamonds, then the queen of clubs, then the six of spades. Then I’ll shuffle and let that monster we all call fate decide the rest, because beyond those three the rest don’t really matter. I know you’d understand, even if no one else ever will.

The watch you gave me still works great and here it is so fucking late…I guess it’s time to go.

Hope you’re well.