The Knock

A year ago today, you knocked and stood outside my door. We haven’t spoken in months, yet there you were in the flesh, and you were drunk.

In that moment of weakness, I let you in. I stopped watching “The Sandman” on Netflix, and we discussed what happened – why you left.

And we got intimate. Oh, how I missed it. I let you sleep on my bed after because you were tired and drowsy. I asked you to stay for the night, which you did.

For a second there, I thought everything will be all right. We were happy for a few months, but history repeats itself.

Now here we are, strangers again.