Vertigo

We were arguing again. Fighting seems to be the only thing we still do together.

Our lines are still tangled. I wonder if we ever understood each other at all, or if we ever talked without arguing. Now, we can't spend five minutes in each other's company without arguing about the most petty things.

It came to a point that we couldn't ride an escalator together without arguing.

You retorted to a comment I made. I just sighed and looked down. It was a long, long way down. The polished tile surface of the floor was so mesmerizing

I was gripped by the sudden urge to just JUMP. To jump away from all the excuses, all the anger, all the misunderstandings, all the drawn-out fighting.

I averted my gaze and looked at you. I looked at you intently, hoping that you would anchor me.
I laughed, shakily.

"Hold me, I feel like jumping."

You made an impatient gesture, ignored my silent plea.

No. I don't think we ever understood each other.