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my room, waiting.
Smoking.
Waiting.
Toking.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Finally, There’s a Knock
“Come in,” I call softly.
(The girls must be asleep
by now—almost midnight.)
My heart stutters. Crow
hops. Bucks wildly. But
it isn’t Trey. [Told you.]
Brad’s head pops through
the door. You’ve been awfully
quiet. Everything go okay?
I’m disappointed. But at
least I’m not alone. “Like
clockwork. Come on in.”
We do what you do when
you’re wasting an evening,
playing with the monster.
Finally, the clock betrays
that it’s well after two A.M.
Trey isn’t coming after all.
Guess I should at least
pretend to sleep. Brad stands,
pauses by the door.
Choices. Choices. This
choice is all mine to make.
