Tuesday

On Tuesday. I would lie on the floor. There’s not much else. Except the fan on the ceiling. He can’t clean the house or cook dinner. He just keeps it a little too cold. On Wednesday. Someone could be under my bed. I wouldn’t know, I’m asleep. I wouldn’t know, I’m hungry. On Thursday. I had some leftovers in the fridge. I don’t remember where they came from. My phone says it’s 11:34 am. There’s not much else to eat. The food is mysterious. Hunger. Not much else. On Friday. If that cookie fell on the floor. I would want to eat it. They told me not to. So I feel twitchy. Whoever told me that. Told me long ago. They might have died. Long ago. On Saturday. If I could find something in the pantry. I would eat it. At the grocery store is where they are. They will stare at me. And laugh that I haven’t eaten in days. So I went the store at 2:30 am. When it is closed. And cry in the parking lot.