Your mother liked my manners. Your brother laughed at my joke. I filled the glasses without asking. You hardly spoke. I asked him about his rent, said his place looked bigger than the photographs he'd sent. He said, "You're good for him." I almost asked him why. He asked me for the olives. I passed them with a smile. That's lovely. That's fucking awful. Of course. Of course. I know. I know. At home you played your father's last voicemail. He'd called about the sink. I turned the television down. You played it twice. You asked if I was listening. I said, "Every word." I reached across the sofa. You didn't look at me. Of course. Of course. I know. I— You asked if I loved you. I said yes before you finished. You smiled and pulled me closer. I was awake until four.
