After an Argument About Black Holes

“Elephant Blues” — Natalie Martell
It was your breathing, my friend, that first sent me spinning through my own airless space: your head against my arm, so completely at rest, exhalation so soft I could not tell if you were awake or asleep. The television colors in front of us were blurred, and I could not tell what the story was because I was falling bodiless, pulled by gravity, cheeks burning like a star.
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