The Evening of Many Shoes

There were four extra shoes by the door before I even understood what was happening, and that should tell you everything about how prepared I was for this evening. Four shoes means two people, and two people is not nothing. One person arriving is an event. Two people arriving at once, within minutes of each … Read more

The Floor Ritual

She moved the coffee table today. Not far — maybe two feet, enough to clear a rectangle of open floor in the living room — but far enough that it now sits half over the vent, which I consider a separate offense entirely and plan to address later. First things first. I needed to understand … Read more

The Popping Sheet

She brought out a flat cardboard box this afternoon, the kind that arrives folded nearly to nothing and has to be coaxed back into a shape with your thumbs along the seams. I watched her do this from the hallway with some suspicion, because boxes in this house have a way of either containing something … Read more

The Radiator Has Something To Say

It started with one knock. A single, deliberate sound, metal on metal, from inside the radiator in the back room — not the window, not the wall, the radiator itself, as if something had reached up from underneath the floor and rapped its knuckles against the pipe to get my attention. I was sitting nowhere … Read more

The Box From Under the Bed

There is a flat plastic container that lives under the bed, in the dead zone past where my paw can reach without real commitment, and until this afternoon I had made my peace with not knowing exactly what was in it. I assumed dust. I assumed the particular nothing that collects in places nobody goes. … Read more

Out of Sequence

There is an order to things when she comes home. I did not invent this order, I only noticed it, the way a scholar notices a pattern in old texts nobody else bothered to read closely. Keys first, into the dish by the door, a small metallic clatter that means she has stopped moving forward … Read more