I opened the refrigerator and scanned the contents: yogurt, grapefruits, and cottage cheese. In the freezer, behind a box of whole-wheat waffles, I found a small, forgotten container of mocha chip ice cream. In the dark, I stabbed at the hard, frosted ice cream with my spoon and then I gave up and tossed it onto the coffee table. The spoon bounced and landed on the rug. I kicked it underneath the table and then picked up the remote control and turned on the television.

A cooking show was on and the host was excitedly demonstrating how to poach eggs. He made tiny tornadoes in the water and then slipped raw eggs into the tornadoes’ eyes. I watched as the white part swirled around its yellow center like a cloud surrounding the sun. The audience’s oohs and ahhs bounced around the walls of the blue-lit living room. I turned up the volume and wondered if I would be able to hear her when she came in. I turned it up louder and watched those pretty white eggs spin out of control in their hot water bath. I flipped the channel just as he sliced one open and the camera zoomed in on the bright yellow insides oozing out like blood.

I flew past a few late-night comedy shows and two infomercials. Nothing held my attention so I turned the television off and stuffed the remote control under a pillow cushion. I walked past the front door, telling myself I was only peeking through the window out of habit and not to see if she was home. It was dark and empty and the silence vibrated in my ears, so I went back upstairs.

Usually I liked escaping into my room, but tonight I felt restless and out of place. I sat at my desk, turned on the lamp, and stared at the dust particles floating through the air. Deciding it was better not to know how many ugly things were swimming around me, I flicked off the light. I got into bed and felt the sheets mold to my skin, as though they had a memory and were waiting for me to return, waiting to pick up where we had left off earlier.

Dread made its way into my chest so I grabbed a pillow and tossed it where my feet usually went and switched my body on the mattress. It felt funny lying on the wrong side of the bed, so I put my pillow back where it belonged and turned around again.