I lost a piece of my model world behind the couch

Sometimes I see the little remains of the fractured third metatarsal in my left foot like I can imagine my blood being blue or the enzymes in my saliva, with little teeth of their own.
This break has been unbroken for an upward rounded year and i still feel the dull line of new bone. of year old bone versus two decade old bone maybe.
I wonder if I move into the hundred year old house if I'll feel the footsteps on the staircase, or old fingers turning the knobs in the fun size doors in every room that lead to nowhere. I wonder if I'll still talk to myself, or to the windows overlooking a diminished garden, winter creeper smothering the pillow plant vine, an arms race for more tendrils; more arms. Probably both. I could listen to natural light and gain a kitchen counter head rest.

I met an army vet and ex red sox pitcher who had red skin around his eyes and loved dessert. I met a woman who was genuinely impressed to hear the forests in the eastern yewessay are among the most diverse on the erff. I met a man who said I weighed seventy five pounds, and looked at me like he wanted to scoop out my eye with a spoon and eat it, sexually. I walked around and sat on a small stone wall with my back to a sunset and talked and talked for hours about kombucha, decision making, shitty roommates, travel opportunities, monogamy. I declined an extra espresso shot and I think that says a lot. I bought two books by the same author at a used book store, and dangerously devoured the first few pages of one while driving. dangerous!