The page
i started hanging my coat up the second i walk in instead of throwing it on the chair, and now coming home feels like arriving somewhere instead of collapsing into it
The page
The page
The lines
I started hanging my coat up the second I walk in instead of throwing it on the chair, and now coming home feels like arriving somewhere instead of collapsing into it.
Thirty seconds at the door. I'm tired either way, and it costs the same either way.
The pile on the chair used to greet me all evening. A small unfinished thing sitting in the corner of every room I walked through.
Now coming home feels like arriving. The door closes and the evening actually begins.
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