“I want to be easier.”
“I do not want easy.”
“You say that because you’re good.”
“I say it because the truth is complicated.”
He breathed against my shirt.
“What happened after I left the kitchen?”
“I finished putting away the groceries.”
“Then?”
“I went downstairs and cleaned windows.”
“You clean when you’re angry?”
“I work.”
“Did you want to come back?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I believed you needed space.”
“I fell asleep.”
“Nightmare?”
He nodded.
“What happened?”
“You were in the apartment, but every door I opened led to an empty room.”
His fingers twisted in my shirt.
“I used the whistle. You didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I woke up and you were gone.”
“I should have left a note.”
“You do not have to report every movement.”
“Right now, perhaps I should.”
He drew a shaking breath.
“I’m sorry about the market.”
“I know.”
