Her: “We did. It meant everything. I just—can’t.”
Their hands part in slow motion,
fingers slipping away with goodbye.
Then she disappears into the night before his next breath.
My spoon hits the bowl with a clatter.
Him: “Wait… you forgot your?—”
The door shuts behind her.
Him: “—bag.”
And when he checks her bag,
there's the book he already slid inside,
so she could have it.
I jump from the bed.
“Bitch. What are you doin’?”
I fling a hand at the TV, bowl in the other.
“Stupid ass is runnin’? For no fuckin’ reason?
“No name. No number.
“You just gonna leave him like that?”
I shake my head.
“Fuckin’ tease, better have a good reason.”
// AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER //
It’s 3:27 a.m. I’m a tipsy mess,
glued to the movie,
sweaty, the blanket tangled around me,
Cream of Wheat crusting the bowl next to me,
the wine bottle half-empty,
perched on the floor at my feet.
I’m crying?—
ugly, hiccuping sobs.
Dean’s back at the bookstore?—
same date, same minute, a year later?—
