I liked that my house was becoming her place. A few nights this week, she’d beat me home. I’d find her inside, shoes discarded by the door and wearing one of my T-shirts, her own uniform top usually on the floor beside the hamper instead of inside it. One night she’d been on the porch, drinking a glass of wine. Sooner rather than later, I wanted this to be her only sanctuary. Considering that the rest of her furniture had arrived at her house in town but she hadn’t unboxed it yet, I was taking it as a good sign.
