This mash-up (opens Quicktime player) seems to almost capture the mood (via Don't waste the pretty).
The thick, hot, wet air hung heavy in the apartment. I tried watching the News, but it was all Fire, Rape, and Cut Throats. I couldn't deal, couldn't focus. My skin itched and burned and bubbled. The cushion/blanket/pillow I sprawled on wouldn't give me comfort, no matter how many times I punched and twisted them. I turned the TV off and moved to The Cube.
Lilly is flat on the wood floor, breathing slowly. Too hot for petting. The air refuses to be pushed by the Box Fan next to the purple chair. It just hangs Heavy and full of Unshed Tears. I slowly sip my drink, the many Cold Cubes kiss my lips then slid away.
"Hot enough for ya?" He said behind me. I hadn't heard him come in, but knew he'd been around, that he'd been lingering about quietly for a few days now in the darkened corners and the inner shadows. "Need a refill?"
He took my glass from my hand and headed into the kitchen. I could hear the Cubes clink and rattle from ice tray to glass. His strode heavy, but noiselessly back with one drink extended and one drink for himself.
"A toast to you, my friend." He said tapping our glasses together and smiling sadly, "welcome me back; it has been too long."
We drank slowly staring at each other, sizing, or rather, re-sizing each other up; getting reacquainted with the presence of each other. Many years had past since I last sat with him and shared a drink. Six years, maybe seven. So much had changed, yet so little at the same time (however the cliche goes). He seemed about the same, maybe a little darker, a little older, a little more intimidating. Yet he still had that ability to pull you in, to consume all your attention, to make you think about things "unthinkable." Endings and Never-endings, the same old story of mine.
"Did you miss me?"
He closes his eyes and laughs hard, head thrown back. "Ah, ever the eloquent speaker, no?" he tips his glass toward me, "come now, surely you can't mean that. Without me in your life, you have Nothing going on."
"Please, go away."
"Why would you say such a thing? Do you not like the company? Do you prefer to be completely Alone? We have known each other for so many many long years. You wouldn't know how to be without me around."
"You hurt me deep, everytime. You make me tired and shy and sad. I have trouble speaking, forming words and getting the breath to push them out of my mouth. I accomplish Nothing. I spend all Time focused on You. I feel dragged down from the Inside. Please go."
"But I cannot. I am a part of you. I am intertwined in your blood and flesh, your very DNA." He paused letting this sunk in, knodding. "We will only part when you die."
"I know." I sighed. "Will you at least get me another drink?"
"Of course, my brother."
As he again re-filled our glasses, he shouted out from the kitchen, "Hey, what was that you said the other day when you were thinking about me? About the sun and moon?"
"When the Moon is full, it is full because the Sun Shines on it. I only observe the phenomenon. I don't recall how to be the Sun."
"Ah, yes. I liked that very much. I am sorry, but I don't think you shall ever be the Sun or the Moon. But you'll always have me for many years to come, right?"
I couldn't answer. I just stared at the floor, gripping my glass tightly.
I hoped he didn't see the tear.