He got up late / the wind seemed extra cold and his body’s pain spoke in the language of grips / he walked to the tea shop and saw no one / the street was empty / the store owner saw him coming and made ready, a bag of his favorite tea
She anticipated that he would run away on this day
They did not say anything to each other
When he returned, the pot was already whistling
He was happy to be back in bed, the sheets were still warm
An element of frailty new to his know / his only way to combat is to bury himself into the bed sheets and absorb the heat that was now inside his stomach / he heard a tree branch fall just outside his window / it tapped the window pane as it fell / the next sound from outside was the wind as it knocked on the front door
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