barriers

"just drive," i said.

we're slithering through the decrepit array of buildings that line the beach at dusk. the burnt auburn pours its radiance down on us, the windows rolled down and our arms resting on their respective sides of the car. i sift through the center console, past the cigarettes, to find a cylinder of lip balm. i toss it to her side without turning my head as my lips are satiated.

the further we drive, the less populated and vibrant our surroundings become. i direct her to pull the car onto a dirt path and she gently glides the car into a gravel roundabout in front of a single solitary building facing the beach-front. i tell her to empty her pockets and we each leave our own little pile of personal effects in our seats.

the things we keep with us to ensure security, personality, and identity.

"you holding out on me?" i pinpoint my eyes on her from above the roof of the car.

she splays her arms towards me, bare and perfect and beautiful as they frame her dress.

we walk up a couple of cracked, splintered, wooden steps and through an unlocked door. inside, there is no furniture, no furnishings except for a single ceiling lamp. i run my fingers along the dimly-lit walls and toggle the switch on, the warm electricity unable to fully engulf the room in its rays, but enough to cast our gentle shadows throughout.

i look back, and i can see that her back is up against the wall, arms crossed with a certain assymetry in her eyes.

"and this is?" she seems to be questioning the room rather than me.

awkwardly, her hands search for things to bury her insecurities in. she has nothing to grab onto, no handholds or minute materialistic possessions to keep her busy. i watch as she clasps her hands and moves massages her wrists, eyes upturned and unevenly biting her lips.

i motion with my head and extend my arm with an open hand attached to the end. she reluctantly accepts, and i pull her towards me, only to intentionally miss and we slowly spin. calmly rotating, the world slowly dissolves and all our senses blend into an indescribable occurrence of synesthesia.

in this one simple moment, nothing seems to matter.

we've both given up the ghost.

"this is reality," i say with an unimaginable amount of certainty.

"you're real," she responds, as her voice trembles with a mixture of joy and melacholy. her body tremors as she lets her walls dissolve.

we collapse.