Could I blame him? He asked me to sing his favorite John Mayer song. Then the curtains fell from their state of grace, but there wasn’t any need to hang them until we finished; by then the windows had all fogged up. I didn’t know the lyrics to the song, so instead he had me struggling for the words to say. Because when the body struggles under another body’s weight, words become incoherent, obsolete, and syllables become the only words you need. Bated, gasping, ugh, unh, oohh. Our, he, his, my, I. I had invited him to our house. I laid him on our bed. He took his shoes off of his own accord, because to his (mis)understanding, it was my house.