[disgova’s murmurs (text)]
⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹
𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘵...
𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘰,
𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥.

𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦.
𝘚𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯.
𝘔𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦.

𝘐 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦:
𝘈 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯?
𝘈 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥?
𝘖𝘳 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦?

𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦.
𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘐'𝘮 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥...
𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘻𝘰𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯.

𝘼𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨...
𝙄 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙢𝙚.

𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦
𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦
𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘱 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺.

𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵...
𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘯.
⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹





⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹
I'm sitting in the bistro
the barkeep is stone-faced
wiping the counter in front of me
like something just spilled there
a baseball game glows on the TV
nobody seems to care who wins
the clock above is whispering
something just out of reach

the barkeep asks if I want another
Like I'm already halfway through
I look down, there's a glass in my hand
the ice was already wearing thin

⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹

The TV still glows on the wall
a rerun of Twin Peaks, maybe
leaking cheap perfume in the room
that settled on my bare neck
a stranger waves like a friend
as if we already knew each other
smiling with a pale red smear
like it was taken from my lips

the barkeep asks if I want another
like he's not sure which time this is
I look down at the glass in my hand
the water feels too warm somehow

⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹
I reach into my pocket
a key to room 728
a note in my handwriting:

"don't go upstairs...
.j.u.s.t.l.e.a.v.e."
⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹

??????:
I look up at the counter,
at the barkeep for the bill.

He looks at my hands,
then at my face.
He says: "Hey kid, you don't owe me a dime."

He pauses...
like he's deciding whether to speak.

"If you've got time," he says:
"I can tell you a story."

⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙖𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙚𝙥:
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯... 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸,
𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥... 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘬𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘹.

𝘓𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬...
𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦.
𝘖𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘬...
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨...
𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘭𝘰𝘸.

𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨,
𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳.

𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦...
𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳.
𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺,
𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴,
𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦... 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵...
𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘦:

⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹
??????:
"If you ever see her again...
tell her I'm sorry.

I... tried to stay."
⊹⊱┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈⊰⊹