A few days after you left, there was a bad storm. It happened in the middle of the night the way all the really bad storms do. I watched it through the double-wide windows that functioned as the head of my bed at the time.
\nYou had been there to see me the weekend before and I was thinking about you. The visit had started out pretty well and you\u2019d had a look in your eyes that said you intended good things. Very good things.
\nOf course it didn\u2019t work that way.
\nI don\u2019t know if there\u2019s a way to explain: the lights were out, the room was dim, and when you walked into the bedroom you just looked so much like her<\/i>. I was so surprised that I said exactly what I was thinking before I realized how it would sound, and that set the tone for the rest of your visit.
\nSo a few days later I lay in bed watching the water run down the window and let lightning burn afterimages on my retina. The pillow you\u2019d slept on didn\u2019t smell like your perfume. The sheets didn\u2019t smell like your skin. There was no romantically symbolic indication that you\u2019d ever been in my house. I suppose that was fitting.
\nThe next morning the neighborhood was littered with leaves and branch bits. I watched people sweep the walks or rake their lawns as I got ready for work.
\nI hadn\u2019t called you.
\nI wasn\u2019t going to.
\nI had admitted to myself that I didn\u2019t know what to say. I think that was the first time I\u2019d felt comfortable in three years.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A few days after you left, there was a bad storm. It happened in the middle of the night the way all the really bad storms do. I watched it through the double-wide windows that functioned as the head of my bed at the time. You had been there to see me the weekend before … <\/p>\n