catch in the throat

When the door bell rings, I immediately go into a thousand pieces. Bounce across the hard laminate floor like marbles. Spinning in inordinate directions. Crashing into – then repelled. He isn’t supposed to be here. I am not ready. There’s been, as of yet, no call.

He stays for several hours. Most of which I stalk nervously about the house. Load my camera with film. Empty the dishwasher. Smile and nod my head. He’s filled with optimism. We’re hoping for the same things – for completely different reasons. I just want him to leave. But I never say so out loud. Instead, take my jacket and go for a walk.

But now we know for sure. Or at least enough to keep the anticipation going. And Monday will hold more of same. The waiting for confirmation. Then his final decision.

So much coffee today that I can’t stop. Anything. My heart’s racing. Ears thumping. Personification of the word buzz. The smell of aluminum stuck in the back of the nose. Caught in my throat.