JILL
Chaos.
IDIOTS.
Parkdale this time. Triller Avenue near Harvard. Old detached with front balcony. I’m getting undressed in the living room and I feel A MAN in the house, some confused child. New tenant, barely able to keep up rent. At first, I think he’s an artefact of the house’s history, but the sound of the floorboard creak, the clearing of a throat … he’s here, he’s real. PROTECT. Retract. He’s up on the second floor, must’ve woken up. His heavy sock steps. Sensing him. Ugh. Feel the soft skin of his palm on the balustrade while my tendrils are plugged in to the woodwork, the world, now including him. Getting dressed. Get. Dressed. Breathe breathe breathe. Keep moving, girl. Have to keep from screaming. Move. RETRACT. Unreeling myself from the marrow of the architecture. Not sur
