Now it's night. Molly's asleep. Migraine.

I go out and pick her up some Subway and Excedrine Migraine. While there I meet this young goth chick. Probably 18. I'm probably hoping she's 18 so I don't feel worse for the things I want to do to her. She tells me she's heading to Denver and that we should travel together. I tell her I can't and that she's a little young for me and start walking away with my sandwiches and giant Dews.

As I reach for the door she moves in front of my hand just enough to catch the space a half inch between my palm and her abdomen.

I feel her. Sleeping. Dreaming. I know she'll never remember it, but I'll remember the way it feels.

I feel her now as I write next to her. And I know she'll recognize the goth chick.

I gotta get back. Where is she. Where's the hotel. Where are you, Molly?Emma?

I wake her up and feed her. She appreciates me. I love her. And I can't tell her anything. What will she think when she meets him? When she meets them? The road buries everything you ever felt before. Memories drowned beneath rubber and asphalt.

I don't know how to tell her.. I love her.. but...

I know she doesn't love me.

               she loves Stewart

       And her smell follows me everywhere.

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