hey, albert

I had a very Garden State moment last night, wandering the spring-cold streets of Provo. The sun was sinking slowly and the light was at a weak slant, sending shadows long and lean across the chilly avenues. I walked, arms crossed against the creeping cold and a worn letter clutched in my left hand, just thinking. Blocks and blocks had passed when I came upon a corner completely torn apart, the apartment building destroyed and the ground mounded in heaps of rubbish, dirt, and construction. At the center was a hole, a deep wound reaching down into dark dirt and hackneyed tree roots. A bulldozer teetered on the cliff edge, idle for the night. To the right was all that's left of the building, crumbling concrete stairs leading up into the fragile sky.

I stood there, watching. Nothing happened. No one near. I felt like the very last person in the whole entire world. I took the stairs one at a time, balancing without a handrail, before sitting down at the top, legs swinging over the edge. For a while, I just kept thinking. It had been a rather mellow day, quiet and unhurried, and while I didn't feel lonely, I certainly felt alone. I thought about the light and the color of the end of February, and then I wished for a Polaroid. I thought about Spring and What Happens Next, and then a little bit about strangely familiar places and wanting to soak them all in, from pretty pioneer architecture to makeshift chain link fences. I thought about old friends and new ones, and then I stood up and stared over and into the abyss. And I shouted, screamed, yelled right into it.

It felt absolutely wonderful.

The End.