I slept in his bed. Sometimes with my face in his chest. Sometimes with his body spooning mine and his arm around me. Always with him pressed against me. Always with his hands on me and his smell everywhere. I didn’t know how or even when it happened, but somehow, he’d found a way to tear down my boundaries and embed himself in every piece of me. Something touched me deep in the chest. Something warm and fragile. Something unraveling like a rope. He didn’t go to work those seven days. He taught me how to cheat at cards. How to fuck. And how to make an omelet. His mamma was a good cook, he
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