Asleep on the sofa, she turns over, unperturbed. The dog hair explodes in the sunbeam.
I can’t, I won’t, you can’t expect me to wake her. I’m not much for coffee or goodbyes. I disappear.
Later I come home, is she gone? Did I think about her all day? Do I even remember her name?
The bed is made. The apartment is mine. Rover and I both stare out of the window. The sun bleeds through neighboring walls. I think we both dream… We dream of Olivia…if that is her name. But it doesn’t matter.
She is already gone.