I make a rulmade one forty fiveforty-fiverning.
I am done analyzing tonight. Whatever he meant in the car, whatever the silence after it meant, whatever the feeling I refuse to name is doing in my chest right now it can wait until morning. I am getting up, getting water, and going back to bed and that is, the complete list of things happening in the next ten minutes.
I get up.
I go to the kitchen.
He is already there.
---
Standing at the counter with a glass of water looking out at the city. Not doing anything else. Not on his phone, not reading, not performing the version of himself that exists in offices and restaurants and the back of black cars. Just standing in the dark in a t-shirt and looking at Chicago like it is something he has a long standinlong-standing with.
He hears me
