2004-01-22 / 1:48 p.m.

(rattlebones)

There is an earthquake that rattles the bones of this planet for what feels like hours. We sit, on the third floor, staring at one another, occasionally glancing at the lights hanging from the wall just to confirm that yes, mother nature is pissed about something.

When it stops everything is calm and certainly that wasn't too bad.

But when we step outdoors it's clear how wrong we are.

Everything is in ruins. The freeways are torn, the sky is split.

I don't know where my car is. I don't know how I'll get home. GB is on a flight to NYC and, frantic, I call him on his cell phone.

He tells me how the plane dropped four miles down and then finally stabilized as the earth made its violent tremble.

And I'm glad that he's alive but I'm still alone, on my own.

last night ... tonight