Use Your Head

by Hannah Dailami

I clutched onto his smooth rain jacket, wrapping both hands so that they clasped onto the familiar. But nothing felt familiar about this situation at all. Foreign thoughts and meanings meant to be interpreted filled the recesses of my mind, so foreign that butterflies filled my stomach with unruly pains. I thought I might throw up, and reminded myself that I wouldn’t because I hadn’t in years. Before I could move into another arbitrary thought of throwing up, we accelerated in speed.
The bike hummed a deep thunder that vibrated up my spine and into my skull. It rolled around in the little space that belongs there and rushed through my arms. The intense energy escaped from my fingertips last, soft at this point and dulled. Again I grabbed tighter, hoping that my arms would not somehow forget how to hold on. My stomach began to relax as we slowed down and stopped completely. My legs had turned into heavy dead weights that were yearning for stability. They did not want to get off but instead wanted to stay completely resistant to any sort of movement. I pried them off the side and readjusted my organs.
The helmet sat securely on my head until he laughed and shimmied it off. The temperature of my fingertips dropped rapidly but I couldn’t understand why. He held them, with the intent to hold them for a while. His grip was firm with an unknown conviction that I’m not even sure he knew about at the time.
The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, only to shy away from the watching bystanders. The sky turned into an ominous black as I grew accustomed to staying still. The moon continued to hide. It didn’t want to come out and deal with what was going on, but instead wanted to stay in the minds of those who remembered it as a bright and lovely object. So there it stayed. My hands were feeling better now, almost like I was beginning to feel better. I left my head with the helmet next to the bike and walked for a bit. We weren’t going anywhere in particular, but just going. It felt that way all the time. No brain and no control over what was happening. I just walked, only without the knowledge of how to move my dead weights.
The bike was waiting for us when we got back. It sat longingly as the air started to whisper of rain. Maybe it too worried about us, about me. It was time to put my head back on and go home. The hum was different this time. It echoed in my newly readjusted head all the things that were happening in this new state. It was a longing, but with something like pure terror hiding inside.
We rode the city streets and the moon was still hiding behind the dim clouds. I couldn’t fathom why something so iridescent and beautiful would hide. But I suppose nothing ever makes sense to the person looking at a mirrored image.