Misstep

I keep slipping up on the memory of it all; like missing a step on the stairs. Thinking you were at the bottom and suddenly your foot is plunging into uncertainty. The jolt of holy fucking shit, what just happened, this is certain catastrophe. I don’t know what I’d call you now, if I saw you on the street. There’s no-one I don’t see on the street, well I guess, less so now. Did we never settle on pet names? Too obsessed with a hypothetical dog to see one another as our own. I think we bypassed a lot of the fluffy stuff that would’ve told us about the meatier stuff. Like going straight to the answers section before you’ve done the exercise. But you’ve got the wrong page and the answers don’t match up and you sit in mild peril until the end of the class. Staying quiet because it would be worse to care about this. The teacher hasn’t seemed to notice and maths was always my worst class. I wanted to be your respective answer, I wanted the downs because the ups felt like eating birthday cake the morning after.