All day long I felt a bit off at the atomic level. As if several million atoms had come loose and were dysfunctioning in the misfired war between caffeine and alcohol and loneliness. Feeling off is halfway to feeling awful. Please ignore me, if you happen to notice I'm still here. What's left of my hair is trapped in aluminum. Molecules cluster around insomnia. Don't wake the spiders or the alarm clock. I wish I was an extra-stealthy ghost saving silver breath for an Asian lady in my office or the subway, skating my fingertips over that hairline patch of neck behind her ear.