Eight minutes and twenty seconds

And what after this escape? I ascended towards the sky, making my way to escape from you, and there you were following my steps, waving at me, in the form of a cloud tightly nestled across the sky's width. I reached out my hand to touch you, to tear this illusion from my mind, and it scattered like a burst of joy to fill the remaining emptiness. On the beach of misery, a table, a cold bottle, and a chair heavier than what I carry, my solitude was broken by your voice, which wore the noise of the waves; so the memory strip called out with a countdown to start messing around, like a flute in a melody, awakening a longing I didn't expect to dispel, just as I brush off the woolly spray from my shoulders. Then the headache began to seep into my head like a connected swarm of ants.