6.8

I remember when I introduced you to my soul. So casual, "Say, have you met . . . ?" The bits of my bones were rattling around as you shook hands. I sat on the lid of myself, afraid I would jump out too much too fast. Soul and self are not so different, but meeting one, then meeting two: this is a new thing much too dangerous. Perhaps I'll keep him locked away. Yes, actually, I think so. Lock him up in bigger boxes so he has some room to move. Yes, yes, this is the right idea, I think.
Where has he gone? Where have you gone?
Ah, shit. My soul has run away with you.