You know, I was doing just fine. Sure the water was starting to boil over a little, and there were some plants that needed watering. I’ll be the first to admit that the dust was getting too thick and the floors needed mopping. I was just going to take the trash out, I really was getting around to it. Things were messy, but I had a handle on it. Everything was okay.
Until you barged in. You with your sugary smugness and electrifying nonchalance, your goofy veneer of wit and laughter. It was as if you hadn’t even been gone, like the place was yours and nothing had changed. You noticed the new curtains and the different shade of paint on the walls, complimented them even, as if I had asked. You took from the fridge and wiped your muddy boots all over the floors. You had the nerve to light a goddamn match and enjoy a fat cigar. You filled my vision with thick plumes until I couldn’t breathe, laughed when I couldn’t find the strength to speak. And then you left.
Now everything is on fire, everything is up in flames and collapsing all around me.
I was doing fine.
Why did you have to come back and destroy it all over again?