I slip into the toilet, lock the door and lean against it as a terrible revelation dawns on me. It’s like the morning sun when you forget to close the curtain—it’s my fault, I should have closed the curtain, I knew the sun was there, I knew the sun would eventually rise again, but I didn’t close the curtain and now this invasive, bright, shimmering light wakens me from the slumber I was using to avoid it. I still love him.
