He enters and realizes something's amiss.
He knew his apartment like a lab-mouse knew its maze.
Curtains open – too much light.
Sneakers slotted into the rack – too orderly.
And then in the kitchen, where she knew he couldn’t miss it – “With all my heart”.
He had to talk to the cleaning-girl about the hand towels.
Showing posts with label 55. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 55. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
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