kiss-my-amps

Max lives in a system of boxes, compartments. Everything has its specific place, somewhere to keep it carefully hidden away from view, upholding the image of a pristine apartment. He's careful about the collection of dust; every surface is dusted, then wiped, then dusted again, and he puts on latex gloves and runs his hands over each individual surface to look for any strays. The daily process. Max doesn't like for things to look lived in. There's a single framed picture on the coffee table located exactly three feet in front of the sofa and exactly five feet behind the television, one of the apartment when it was first developed and furnis

I remember when we first set eyes on each other.  You had peanut butter crackers in your hand and I had a sandwich that my mom had made earlier that night.  We were so young.  You sat next to me and offered me a cracker, and I broke my sandwich in half and we shared lunches. I remember when we first grasped hands.  We were swimming out in the ocean, we were just kids.  I was too small.  I started to slip away.  You grabbed my wrist and for a second there, I almost lost control, but it was like the seas parted and said, "You're safe now.  Walk along, kids."  We made it out alive.  The waters raged behind us and I thanked you and you told me t