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

Imaging. Labs. Pathology. Surgery center. Home nursing. Drugs with names that looked made up.

“How much.”

She told me.

I stared.

“Why didn’t you tell me this part either?”

“Because you’d say we’d figure it out. Then you’d take overtime. Then you’d stop coming home again.”

I wanted to argue. Instead I looked at the papers. Then at the indentation the rubber continue reading …