I woke around nine the next morning with sweat on my chest, a raw stink on my skin, and rings around my eyes for some odd reason.
Just was in my kitchen. He sat at the two-person table in a beam of golden sunlight and held a cup of coffee from the corner convenience store. Our eyes met upon my entrance.
He smiled.
I smiled.
He toasted me with his coffee.
I asked, “You moving in?”
“I expect to someday. Maybe soon.”
“Did you let yourself in?”
“I have a key. Anyway, the door was unlocked. Plus, I always know how to use the fire escape if I need to. Your dining room window is never locked. You can’t stay hidden from me in here.”
I walked up to him swaying, just like a zombie, yawned, stretched, and said, “Give me your coffee.”
He handed it to me and I took a long sip. I found the beverage soothing, refreshing, soulful, and Zen-lifting. I passed the Styrofoam cup back to him and said, “I always forget that you have a key to the place.”