I slip downstairs, toes feeling stair-edges in the dark, until my feet feel cool concrete.
Around me, the detritus of an unfinished basement: boxes, books, unused furniture, a pee-stained mattress and an old rug. I turn the switch on the lamp and cast a circle of dim yellow light onto polytarp-super six and the dead spider in the insulation. My constant companions.
I am tired of waiting for you.
