Through Your Notes

Sunday

Sunday

12.29 a.m.

I regret inviting you. I forgot that the house's a mess.

You trail behind me, hot on your steps.

I open the door.

"Come on in." I say.

"Thanks." You smile. "You sure you're fine with this?" You ask. "I mean, I can always leave aft - "

"Nathan." I say. "I invited you over. Of course, I am fine about it."

You sigh. "Thanks, K."

"No, problem." I smile. "Uhh... I'm so - I'm sorry. It's a little bit of a mess."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah..." I trail off.

"How is this a little bit?" You chuckle. "Is this a ship wreck or something?"

"Nathan." I laugh. "Hmm... Make yourself at home."

"All right. I will make myself at home in this pile of papers and books." You chuckle. "With the papers and books scattering everywhere."

"Nathan."

"Sorry." You smile apologetically.

"I'll go get the pillow and blanket." I say. "You have to sleep in the living room. There's no guest room. My dad made it into a library. I can't let you sleep in my room because you know... And, my dad's room is locked. I have the key but I wouldn't want anyo -"

"Klara." You call out. "You don't have to explain. I understand."

"Okay." I nod and smile.

I walk away.

I turn my head to look at you.

You pick up a piece of paper on the floor. You look at it attentively.

"I didn't know you write poems." You say.

"I do." I whisper.

To myself.