One-Way Street.

On the road.

Where are you going?

I was walking on a highway. It was nighttime, though the exact time was lost on me, as my only working watch had fallen off of my wrist earlier in the day on the subway and landed discreetly in the pickpocket's filthy pocket filled with other semi-precious items he'd managed to scour off of the other passengers. Though I do harbor a fault, as I should not have fallen asleep on the subway in the first place. But how I got here, on this stretch of road, I can't seem to recall.

Fog floated over the asphalt, caressing the rough, waxy surface with seductive, wispy fingers. I've walked miles since the last set of headlights passed me, and the silence of the night penetrated my thoughts and reminded me that I was alone. The further I walked, my vision became fuzzy, lost in a blur of black and white. I felt wetness soak my sneakers, and I realized I was walking in snow. Snow that resisted the fog, hugging the asphalt in protection.

A dark shadow appeared in the distance; a shadow curled up in darkness; even the whoreishness of the fog unable to seduce it into movement, the snow unable to reach it in its deep reflection.

I sat down next to her. If I were indifferent, I wouldn't have given her a second glance, and kept walking into the snow-littered distance. Or perhaps my curiosity

"Don't pity me," she spat.

"Too late for that." I pulled out my travel blanket and offered it to her. "You might as well take advantage."

It's a surprise I recognized her at all. Her once smooth face was etched with dark lines. The dark twilight made her skull look as if it sunk in on itself, and the hair that I used to run my hands through were stringy and matted with dirt, failure, and illness.

She reached out to take the blanket, and I saw her bony wrists as her sleeves slipped to her elbow. Her veins protruded from papery skin, and knife scars bulged as her fingers wrapped around the material.

I said nothing. It wasn't my place anymore.

"You okay?"

"What does it look like?"

"You look like you're enjoying yourself." I waited for her glare to turn its attention to the empty stretch of highway. "How'd you get here?"

She didn't answer me. I didn't expect an answer. The question was vague enough that it could've been interpreted any way she'd like. But we both knew which question I was asking.

"You remember when Janet used to cuddle us to sleep?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

How did you end up on the side of the road?

"You remember when she tried to kill us?"

"No," I replied.

"She did, you know."

"She only tried to kill you."

"And she succeeded."

"Only because you let her. Look at you."

"Because you pretend it never happened."

"Only because I was strong enough to forgive her."

Where have you been?

Snow was falling, like an abomination of white flurries. It distracted me for a moment, as I've realized that more shadows were closing in.

"She never loved us."

"That may be true," I breathed, taking out a flashlight, and shining away the reaching pieces of darkness. But I had nothing else to say.

"Unloved," she breathed, lifting her head to meet the kiss of snowflakes that turned to tears on her cheeks. "You stop here."

"Then I suppose it's about time I left."

"Suit yourself." Her face flickered. Her face was melting back into the shadows. "I'll be here."

As I walked down the snowy road, I gazed back at us, but I couldn't see us anymore.

When will you move on?

[Originally posted in joint blogger account in 2012. Edited April 1, 2013.]