The bed was still made and you were not there. I had fallen asleep with my clothes on. My arms and legs felt syrupy and useless. I heard the rain coming across the cut grass and then on the porch roof and I knew if I did not get up and close the window it would pool on the windowsill and wick up into the curtains, which already were stained with the tea brown tidelines of previous storms. I felt great regret. The regret of having to get up to close the window was just the loose end of all the other regret in my entire life.
