With the tips of my fingers, I will draw an invisible line in the air between us. Then I will step back. I will back away through the open gate of the white picket fence that symbolizes all that could have been but definitely won’t be, and I will close the gate, and I will latch it. Then I will back away over a drawbridge that spans a moat full of snakes. The moat won’t symbolize anything. It will just be a moat. Though I guess moats are inherently symbolic. The moat will symbolize everything moats are generally symbolic of. Same goes for the snakes.
When I get to the far side, I will turn the giant wheel that raises the drawbridge, and I will back away through the front door of my castle, and I will pull the lever that lowers the portcullis made of human femurs, and I will close the front door. I will back away down the hall, and back away upstairs, and back away into the washroom. There I will put in my mouthguard and put on my padded helmet, and my padded suit, and the elbow-length gloves I once bought from a retired police officer who used to train wolves to attack and eat police dogs. Then I will back out of the washroom.
I will back away to the bedroom. I will back away to the bed. I will pull the sheets and the pillows and the mattress off the bed and I will build a fort on the floor. I will crawl backwards into the fort. I will put on my shatterproof goggles. I will put on my steel-toed boots. I will put on my rabbit’s foot necklace.
And then I will check my phone.