matamoras

There are times when what you read, what you see, what you imagine catches up with where you are. Know what I mean?
There is a woman poised on the bed, dressed to the nines, her hair coiffed, her husband mowing silently outside. Do you know her? Are you her? Are you afraid you've become her or are you sure you are her? Maybe you have always been her. Maybe you aren't even close to that, maybe you think you're more stunning than you are. Maybe you think you blend in, maybe you do, maybe you don't. I hold my breath and sometimes I forget.

It's a quarter to one and teeth have been brushed, the dishwasher's running, it's time to go to sleep. Again. Goodnight.