he sat by himself
in the darkened
living room but…
he wasn't alone.
(she, he mused,
was everywhere.)

an eyeshadow palette
sat on the bathroom
windowsill. there was
a receipt, yellow, with
a scrawled signature,
next to the coffeepot. on
his bedroom floor lay
a pair of black panties
(left there from the night
before.)

even as the thoughts
crossed his mind, he
could swear that she
was curled up next
to him on the sofa,
head in his lap,
chest rising steadily
in a contented sleep.

(even when he was
utterly alone, she was
always close by; she
was always at his
side.)