You’re gonna miss me when I’m gone.
He’d been riding around on his bicycle in my neighborhood, he said. He’d been drinking a bit and he was far from home. Although it was late in the night, he asked if he could come over. I’d only just gotten into bed, the candle lit, the hardwood floors cold. I told him okay. When I answered the door, there is blood across his face. I turned into a nurse, ran around my hallways, to the bathroom, to my room, taking care of his wounds.
Three nights this week of splendid slumber. What an interesting turn of events.