Popcorn sold separately. Batteries not included.

It felt so liberating to finally remove my boots
after that grueling fourteen-hour day.
My bad ankle had been acting up since I first hit the gas pedal.
She wouldn't be laying in my bed anymore, she was already
back on her way to her city.
All I wanted was to smell her in the sheets.

It wasn't on my desk next to the keyboard
when I entered my room and started to disrobe.
Maybe she wrote it on the second or third sheet of
the pad so I'd find it a few days later
after tearing off previous pieces, shopping lists and such
(she did that sometimes, too)
but it wasn't there, either.

I frowned and emptied my pockets onto the dresser:
a marker, some chalk to mark pipe, a box-cutter, a few quarters.
After tossing the dirty clothes into the hamper
I turned and faced the bed: she'd changed the sheets before leaving.
So much for inhaling that sweet and spicy scent.
It'd be detergent in my nostrils while I drifted off to sleep.
Detergent and the smell of copper.

The shower went as usual. The steps were just as creaky.
The rabbit still ran under the arm chair when I reached the landing.
Fortunately, though, I didn't turn off the light before climbing
into bed. Something in my gut told me to lift my pillow.
There it was, her tired cursive waiting to be discovered.

But I won't tell you what it said.
Some things are private, even for me.
Suffice it to say I slept well, and it wasn't just because
of the overtime I worked.
Newland Archer-- you old fool, you...