She stood in front of
the bathroom mirror longer
than she meant to,
running through the
conversation she should
have had, the one where
she said the right thing
instead of the thing that
made her small. The
toothpaste dried at the
corner of her mouth. She
did not wipe it away.
Somewhere in the
apartment, the radiator
clicked, and she let
herself believe it was
the house agreeing with
her. Maybe doubt was
just a room she kept
walking through. Maybe
she could turn the light
off and leave it there.