I don’t know why I still go through the motions of heating the stove, cutting up the vegetables, and trimming the chicken. I tell myself to stop as I fill up the Tupperware I bought at the pharmacy. I beg myself to stay put as I load all my purchases into the grocery bags and cross the parking lot dividing our buildings. Raindrops pool in the hollow of my throat and catch on my lashes as I stand outside her door, warring with myself. I can’t keep doing this, putting myself out there, only to have her turn me away. This is the last time. With that thought ringing in my head, I knock.
