I hear you pull into the drive and the free spirit I've exercised all day abruptly folds into itself. I greet you at the door with a pasted smile, asking how your day was, expecting no reply yet, feeling the sting when I get none. Supper is served and you take yours into the living room, plopping yourself on the couch, balancing the plate and the remote with the finesse of a curbside juggler. I remain at the table, staring at you, staring at the TV, while a childhood rhyme plays in my head, *Nobody loves me, everybody hates me. Guess I'll go eat worms!