This time when I stepped on the landing of my home floor I did not ring the bell.

The thud of the latch and the click of the lock, directed me to the chimera of living room.

For all it was neat and too perfect to bear. It smelled unsullied.

Threw my bag on the sofa like I used to, but this time there were no protests from the kitchen.

Turned on the TV. No fights over remote nor the volume being an odd number. The cable had lost it’s signal.

Thought of going to sleep and searched for my second favorite rug.

It was all there down somewhere dusty.

It smelled nausea-tic after three breaths of mine.

The nausea took a further return trip through the pit of my stomach and then to my ears and whispered in an undertone,

“800 Sq.Ft. Lonely”

It echoed.

–R