And although they’ve spent nearly 25 years cleaning the same
***-less bed sheets every two weeks and have used the same blue soap, the same rusted spoons, both believe another’s body heat may be more comforting.
To her the morning coffee cools quicker than it used to. His conversation reminds her of unsalted grits. She sees the lines beneath his eyes and wants to tug at them like zippers. She’s contemplated ******, even.
At night he touches himself. He moves blankets off and on, side to side. He awakes wet.
In the morning he looks at her and wonders why she stabs at her eggs.