by Jade Nicole Beals

I walk into the bedroom again, I find 4 books neatly placed at the end of the bed where I don’t keep books; I had left them there, 3 library books and 1 is mine, not to lose this 1 in returning it accidentally. Take it, place it in place now, there.

I carry the next 3 books I’m going to read to the lamp-side table in the living-room, feels familiar, at home. I rush back again into the bedroom, into the closet again, looking again, I am forgetting something; I find that all my clothes have been hung, and I’m forgetting none, again? I realize this, Why am I 
opening the washer lid looking in again, to find nothing that l forgot there?  
Why am I looking for you in the washing machine?
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