The Man Who Entered Our Bedroom at 1:13 Every Night

the base. Brown crust at the seam. A chip in one mug. The clock over the stove said 2:08.

When I went back to the bedroom, Karen was awake.

Sonia had fallen asleep curled against her unconnected side, one hand on Karen’s ribs.

The pump hummed.

I stood in the doorway because suddenly I felt like I didn’t belong in my own room.

Karen said, “You can come in.continue reading …