Detox walk through Central Park.
We spent all week drinking cheap beer and wearing expensive outfits. We fawned over art, then got bored of it and turned our attention elsewhere. We waited all evening as if something were about to happen, and went to sleep realizing whatever was going to happen was already over, and we had most likely missed it.
When the morning paper was delivered we were still up, and eager to read it. Our hair was wet from swimming and our legs showed scrapes from hopping the fence. When we finally decided to go home, normal people filled the streets with their Saturday morning smiles, clutching their coffees and walking their dogs. We still thought it was Friday.
Later in the week we sat up watching movies and drinking tap water out of glasses that had a lingering smell of white wine. We let out our secrets as we exhaled from cigarettes, knowing there wasn't much left to reveal about ourselves. That's the problem with being honest: it's exhausting.