Dream

I knock on your door and you are no longer there. I look in through a window, no furniture. It is all gone. "He left days ago," your neighbors say.

"Where?" I ask. They shrug. They don't know.

"Where were you?" they ask. I have no answer.

I walk up and down your street. I ask people. I make phone calls. I can feel the panic rising in my chest.

I don't give up. I get on planes. I go to places where there are hints of you, memories of you. Once in a maze-like city, I feel like I see you, turning a corner. I follow you through crowded streets and lose you, once again. Was it you, on that street corner? I don't know.

And then that's all there is. Intermittent chasing and waiting. Waiting for hints, for tips. Chasing them down dead ends. Perpetually haunted by what I don't know, by what I once knew, by what once was.