We were silly-walking through the city streets, admiring the blueish gray skyscrapers made of concrete. Weeds would pop out random cracks in the sidewalk, and although the city was partially busy, it felt abandoned. I slide down stairs as if they are a smooth surface, and turn around looking up to see you laying on your stomach, sliding down feet first. We laugh.
When you reach the bottom, I offer my hand to help you up. You give me a look, such a look that one gives a person they detest. As if my offer was rude, or disgusting.
I woke up confused this morning.
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