Dusting Off Dreams

She stayed

The clock on the wall has been stuck at 8 for days.

The tab on the folder resting on the nightstand says divorce papers.

I haven't changed clothes in days.

Vindictiveness crawls the length of my spine.

I haven't eaten in three days and two nights.

Footsteps slip through the door with a skirt fit on her tight frame.

She held a pen to my head, begging me to sign the papers.

I used it as a dagger, poking her until she doubled over and giggled. She said something about how she needed more laughter and stayed.

We had makeup sex for two days.

A baby is due in eight months and three days.