Last night, I drove the dark miles to reach you, curved along the tarred road where the 10 twisted into the 101 freeway. Ignored the city lights that glanced down like Cheshire cats where on any other night I would have been entranced. For you and tonight, we were far from that wonderland.
Tunnel vision carried my feet up stairs and I came to a sudden stop.
Slumped against the doorway, you were the wounded animal, defensive and scared. Cradling your bleeding heart in tender hands, weariness stripped your want to talk.
"It's okay, it'll be okay," I said, approaching you slowly. My white flag outstretched in the form of a plastic shopping bag. "I bought beer."
"Cammie, you know me so well." The corners of your lips tugged upwards, a tired smile.
"Of course, I do, sweetheart."
Last night, I sat against your bedroom wall. The small pyramid of beer cans grew as you matched me two cans for my every one. Romantic trials awaited you come the new day. And I'll stand by in shadowed companionship. Harrowing phone calls where confusion tilt on question marks. Billowing sighs where answers do not cross. That was our tomorrow. But for now, there was just quiet conversation and the comfort of my crossed legs on wooden floor.