“Erp!”“Hmmm, damp. Good boy, he sleeps in the wet spot.”(Rule number two)Before I could reply, she had disappeared into the kitchen. I sorted ...hrough the scattered clothes for something more than my underpants (inclusive) to the sound of first water running from a tap and then a coffee maker starting its morning duty. Eventually, I assembled shirt, Fruit of the Looms, and pants to protect my charms from further unnecessary observation.If not out right abuse.On entering the kitchen, I found Joe. It was irritating when you were trying to hide something, like the pain that was beginning to ebb and flow with each beat of my heart. I felt as if each flutter was a strain, every bit of energy going into my thoughts on what to say to her. How to word it just right, to make sure I came across the right way. “You don’t have to make a decision now…” The words were hard to speak, my throat wanting to close on them. So bitter on my tongue, I had to look away as I spoke them. Shoving my empty hand. More

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