it and her and they and i
tonight you went out for dinner, with it and her and they and i. it's going home tomorrow, and however certain things might have felt in the past, this time you can't help but wonder in the depths of your heart if you'll get to eat dumplings together again.
tonight she packed up her desk, and they packed up theirs, with you and it and i. that desk has been hers the whole time you've known her, and it feels like a lifetime of sorts. you remember meeting her, and thinking "god, it's going to suck if we lose contact in six months when she leaves again". you remember when those six months got cut violently short, and the relief when the strands that survived the axe grew and stretched out longer and longer. she and they have been on borrowed time here for the last couple of months, everyone knew it had to run out some time, but it still tastes bitter to finally be packing up. you're thankful that these six months that became three months that became nine months turned out to be long enough to keep her in your life for the time being.
tonight it packed its bags to go back home. it wasn't really a task you could do much for, as much as you wanted to. it seems so strange that what feels like a part of your life could be condensed into such a small space. you remember something else that it might have to pack. you make a note to bring it up in the morning. it's not a matter for you and i to deal with at 2am.
tonight she talked about machines, consumption and production and flows from one to the other. about how these concepts are interconnected and consumption is production and vice versa, or something. you're not quite sure, you were filling in webforms at the time. you asked for a book recommendation, though.
tonight you were trying to figure out how to sleep the night without anyone dying of heat. really, you were trying to figure out how i felt about myself, and if i had any options i preferred. i gave you the answer that solved the heat problem and also answered the question you weren't asking. was it deliberate? well, only i can know that.
tonight you thought of a really dumb bit for a post, while sitting with it and her and they and i. you thought about endings, and how they always seem to line up even when there's no reason for it. you thought about how all production is consumption, how all beginnings are also endings, but also how all endings are beginnings in kind. and you understood, for a moment, that beginnings and endings are just punctuation put on the endless stream of events. they mean what we, all of us, choose them to mean. and you put a note in your mind, for tomorrow evening, to start planning the next part of the sentence.