12. Torin
TWELVE
TORIN
Iwalk home.
She’s laughing behind that locked door. I hear it through the glass even from the street—the surprised, free kind. Not performing it for anyone. Just having it.
I keep walking.
My cabin is dark by the time I get back.
I don’t bother with lights. I sit in the chair by the fire and I think about the way she said we can argue about crystal placement tomorrow like tomorrow was already a given.
Like of course, I’d be there. Like the question of whether I’d show up had stopped being a question somewhere along the way without either of us noticing.
She has no idea she did that.
I open my journal. Write for two hours. Put it back in the bookcase.
Then I pull it back out and read what I wrote.
My bear, for the record, says finally.
I sleep better than I have in years.