"I don't want to be with you anymore."

Austin and I are sitting on our big couch and we're arguing. He's holding a glass of orange juice, sipping on it. He's telling me about all of these adventures he wants to do and he wants to do them all at once and we don't have enough money, or enough time off work, or a plan in any direction whatsoever and he's upset at me because I just can't say, "OK, Babe. Let's go NOW."

We're not yelling or screaming, just arguing. It gets quiet for a moment and I'm looking at him as he's looking down at the couch cushion under his legs and he says, almost inaudibly, "I don't want to be with you anymore." I know what I heard but I ask him to say it again. He says it a little, but not much louder, "I don't want to be with you anymore."

I'm crushed, but my ego won't let me break down. I stand up and say, "I'm taking the TV, the couches, the dining room furniture. I'm taking the bed and the car and you can eat shit."

Time warp

 

We're at the zoo, walking around on the paved pathways. I'm numb. I'm following him around like a zombie. Focused on nothing, except him. The pathway turns into the I-5 Northbound on-ramp in Mount Vernon off of Kinkaide St. I'm walking up the curved ramp, following Austin and I collapse. I curl into a ball, hold my knees to my chest and explode into sobs. I'm shaking and I can't breathe and I'm lost and my heart hurts so bad. 

Time warp

I'm climbing a skyscraper in Bellevue. Spiderman style. No ropes or pulleys, just bare hand grabbin' window ledges. I can climb fast. I'm scaling an enormous glass building and I turn to look down to see traffic below. I'm so high up. I let go of the building and fall. Such a hopeless fall! 

Then I land on a semi-truck.

Then I wake up.