the features of hiding away

he let himself in with a key this time. and i didn’t hear the door. am startled when he pokes his head into the room. his smile filled alive with the propriety of discontent. the disruption makes me suddenly afraid. the dog won’t stop barking. he asks if he can stay for dinner. if i’ll do his laundry. sits on the couch and watches the tv. and i wonder what choices i have. wonder what i could or should do to make this transition easier for anyone. struck down by the idea that none of this – any of it – is really mine. and how much of his actions are merely a game to remind me so. i’m not good at playing games.

resort to the things i know how to do. make a pot of coffee. sort the darks, lights, towels. fill the washer full. spin the nob. listen to the machine as it whirs itself into motion to carry away all the filth.

the pressure behind my eyes mounts with each stair as i retreat to the office.
close the door and wait.