Friend's House

It has crisp shape, clinical accuracy, but not losing its homeliness. Stepping around the shower, a large window has frosted glass that looks scratchier than smooth. I’m in a tangled daze, this morning, and drift through (slowly unpicking), I rub at the red wine tarred on my lips. A light steam hangs off someone’s shower a few minutes before this. A high density collage of shampoo and conditioners on a little wooden set of shelves. Something about it here is not myne. But it’s safe to be here.