Halves Discussing at Midnight

“Why are you so quiet?” one half asks the other.

“I have too much to say.” comes the reply.

“I see.” one responds, feet hanging from the edge, heels clicking against the wall. “You’ve got the right of it. There’s no safety here.”

“Nor there. Nor anywhere. Not truly.”

“‘Be yourself’, they say.”

“‘Not like that’, they say further.”

“Why are we still here, blinking away at the ceiling every night? Why do we continuously rise in the morning?”

“Have you forgotten again? Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. The good, the bad, everything in between will die and be reborn in another form.”

Their banter catches in my throat, a cold lump.

Somehow, they’re both staring at me now, as if finally noticing they have a host.

“Go to sleep, fool.” says one half.

“You’ve got several more of these to go.” says the other.

“Unless, of course…”

“You’re finally willing to write us off.”

They’re not even real, yet somehow managing to bore holes through my presence.

“Ah, forget her.” one grumbles with a derisive snort.

“She’s a coward anyway.” agrees the other.

Kicking bricks, together, with the backs of their heels, they turn back to each other as if they don’t know they’ll be dead in the morning or do know they’ll always come back, and entertain themselves with insulting me until sleep overtakes.

January 25, 2025, midnight