Not a Solution Either

Blindblindblind by A Silver Mt. Zion has been running for what feels like three years. She says close your eyes, so I do, and the thoughts come immediately—school, money, love, the whole pile. I can see Berlin’s evening sky through my eyelids somehow. Everything smells like shower gel.

When I open my eyes it’s getting light outside.

This isn’t a solution, I think. I put my clothes on and go.