If his heart pounded any faster than he wouldn't be able to perceive the time between each beat. There would be no beat, there would only be a line of continuous...
What the hell was he even thinking about? Was this what you thought about when you got into these situations?
Okay he told himself. Relax. Just take a moment to breathe. Just a moment. You don't need to commit to relaxing and breathing for the rest of your life. He told himself in his head. So he promised himself at least that. A moment to breathe.
And it was nice. While standing in that shitty apartment that looked like those shitty motels where the door led directly to the outside. A gust of wind hit the back of his ears from behind. His hand went to reach for where there had once been long hair. A voice came.
"So. Picking up to leave?" she had long exposed legs. Never exposed unless they needed to be. But it was summer. Hot. "Finally following through?"
She approached closer, and handed him a cigarette that was already lit. Then she lit herself one. He decided that he'd have to take a raincheck on that moment of breathing.