Home

Walk through the door and appreciate the jumpscare.
That's how I knew she cared. Not in the moment, but
later. It felt like a porch light left on saying, "I
remember you, watch your step." And then sometime
after the door and before the light was the maze. But
I'm getting ahead of myself. She gave me a compass.
It was a simple procedure, some really new-age
futuristic stuff. Turned a stone to a fruit and carved
her initials on the pit. She said she liked my cologne
and now I know why. My green body and black
antenna make me look like an alien, she thinks it's cute.
 If I had a fuckin nickel. Back to the maze. Everyone
wants to be in it except the people in it. After a while
wandering you realize the compass is true but insufficient.
This part's a matter of taste. Take a break from the twists,
turns and dead ends to read the letters you were given.
Do you see the white line? It's subtle, but between it
and the compass you should be on your way. Eventually,
the twists will straighten out and corridors will
widen. Can you smell the ocean? The beach bum
made up a little hut for us. Come inside with me
and we'll tell each other stories like the two sets
of wind chimes outside laughing together in the
wind.