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

band had left in the stack.

She wasn’t just hiding sickness.

She was hiding the shape of the future. From me. Maybe from herself too.

I gathered the papers, set them down, and rested my elbows on my knees.

“We’re done doing this alone,” I said.

She rubbed at a spot on the blanket. “I don’t know if I know how to do it another way.”

“Then we’ll learn badly.continue reading …