one mug, one woman

Some days I skip the part that matters. Not tonight.

The brownstone had a little art table by the door. Crayons in a tin. Hazel showed me a cat. Theo showed me a truck. So polite. My chest hurt.

Kitchen counter had one mug. Just one. Her husband is at his office. She said it flat, like a fact. My stomach heard what my mouth would not say. I just dressed her. She looked good. She looked like a woman going somewhere.

Then she said come back. Every other week. Cash and the app both. Don't you dare have a reason to leave me.

And my hand took the cash before my head could feel what that meant.

I called Robin. Said I had a good day. She said, you only say that when you didn't. She knows me too well. That's the whole problem. Everyone who knows me does.

The Q train heard me smile. Goodnight.