Standing outside, she rests her head against my shoulder. I assess the rain. A city like this is fit for strangers. Looking down, I see an anchor reflected in the lights and puddles. I feel seasick. I wonder if there was something on her lips. I’m imagining things. Her lips aren’t pressed against my ear. But, I can feel her breath. I can hear the emotion. I shake my head to clear the noise. It’s painful. I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut, willing everything away. The raindrops are replaced with colored dots. The lights are blinding. My head teeters and spins. I feel nauseous. The city is like a room full of empty faces. People you once knew but no longer recognize. I feel her hand on my arm. You walk through the room, but it’s like the room is walking around you.