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  • Pulling into your driveway. Sitting on the porch despite it being too cold out. Sharing long pulls from the bottle because we did not want to go inside and call it a night. We would sit close to one another on the white, tattered porch railing and make jokes about pushing each other off. We would pretend to fall off the railing, but really hold on. Get close to each other and say,

    Let go!

    And stay firm on the railing.

    And laugh until the wine was empty, or someone had to pee, and it was clearly time for bed. We would continue to sing songs upstairs in your bedroom. Now quietly, like a lullaby. You strumming the guitar, me humming and singing as best as I could in tune and still sound pretty.

    We would talk about going back outside, but now, onto the roof. You would tell me that you had done it before, that it wasn’t a big deal. That you could see the stars. We would make plans to go out, maybe bring some blankets and sleep there. Climbing out your bedroom window, wrapped in a down comforter, to scrape my hands on the sandpaper shingles. The black glittering smudges from the shingles mixed with a little skin and blood on my palms. Cut into my skin for trying too hard.

    I would be nervous to be outside on the top of your home, so high above, too drunk. Felt like swaying without wind. Felt like the roof might give out beneath me. Felt like if I were to lie down, then I might really start to slide and fall. I would make up an excuse that it was too cold only because I was truly too scared and didn’t like the heights or the feeling of falling. You would know that I was really too scared and not say anything, but help me back inside.

    We would still lie next to each other in bed like strangers. Until I would say,
    come here, I'm freezing.

    You would sing low into my ear. I'd feel like crying because it felt so good to hear your voice, right before I fell asleep.
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