houseghost

“Are you still in my house?” he texts, as I stand, doting on my bruised tush in the mirror, the array of marks left by his hand reminiscent of an archipelago. He’s gone, for a while this time. But he keeps giving me keys to the various residences he keeps. “I don’t see how that’s any of […]

belonging

“I own you,” he told her, at a time when he didn’t. And back then, she found the words bizarre, egotistical, naive. But more recently he’s become the conduit for her gaining a reality so lucid that she can’t help but submit to the truth in the statement. And she wonders how he knew before she did. Or if […]