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I will try tomorrow, I tell myself when the phone rings.
The answering machine is full, which makes me grateful.
A relief.
My sister is always checking up.
What does she think I am doing? Dying in here?
I laugh, knowing she will not drive the forty-two minutes it
takes to find out.

I figure she has befriended my nosy neighbor to try 
and get my body out before it starts to rot.
I do not have a cellphone or a computer.
I do not have a TV set.
Too fearful of big brother.

Books are my companions.
I used to have a cat, but my fears are worsening.
I do not go outside any more. Have not been out there
for three years, maybe.  Possibly six.

Amazon boxes come. I eat cereal mostly, with
powdered milk. Only opening the door to get them
inside if no one is in the hallway.  If someone is, I
do not bother. 

I pick up my book and begin to read.
I know I should call the gas company.
It must be a mistake but I do not feel like speaking
to a human today.

I will try tomorrow.
There is a knock on the door.
My heart begins beating triple time.
I imagine them coming in here.
I can hear it in my ears.
I sit quietly, not daring to turn the page,
for fear they will hear.

Footsteps leave.  Probably the lady my sister
befriended.  I do not even know her name,
all I know is that I do not like her.  I turn the
page only after I am confident no one can hear.

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