When I was in England I was so sick I didn’t eat for a month, and then what I craved was pretzels, soft pretzels, and the only soft pretzel place was so many stops and walks away from me, and I was too tired to leave the house. One morning I woke up craving salt, craving bread, and I went downstairs and poured salt on bread, shaking off the excess in a snowy hiss on the counter. Maybe I was losing salt in tears; I wanted to lose it in blood (from screaming arms) some nights. Today I ate a whole sleeve of saltines for their salt and I don’t miss you. I feel bad for not missing you; putting the salt back into my veins makes it easier to lose in the dark.
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