In This Room

He’s worried about the others. The others who might get hurt. I tell him, there are no others. There is nothing outside of this room, this locked door, this bed. This moment. People are always telling me to be more mindful. I’m being mindful now. Removing his shirt, mindfully. Pulling off my t-shirt, soaked with anticipation, it catches on my earring. I’m mindful of the earring slicing down my earlobe. I make a mental note to buy antiseptic tomorrow, on my way to the station. On my way to the train. The train that will whisk me back, belch me out in that other life, where I am all kinds of things to other people. Their entire universe, making it rotate. But tonight, it is me rotating, spinning off these sturdy casters. The bind that has held me unbridling, unravelling. In this room, with this man.
Kate Jones
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