Ten.One Thousand, Six Hundred & Twenty-Seven
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Quiet, quiet, quiet.
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The whirring of the coffee grinder.
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It’s already time to go.
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Of course, she’s already here. She’s always on time. Always early.
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He builds the nightstand while the two of us clean up the rest of his room.
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The thump, thump, thump of the small inflatable basketball on the floor.
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I realize that this desire to clean is about soothing my nerves.
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She tells me that being nervous is a good sign, that it means I will be just fine.
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We listen to him talk and talk and talk. And we laugh and laugh and laugh. I can’t take my eyes off of him.
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What am I going to put that caramel on?