Sunlight pours from the open window on the other side of the room. It heats my face and forces me to open one eye before I'm ready. Right away I notice the bed is empty. Bennett made his exit sometime in the middle the night or early this morning. I don't know. And even though I'm happier this way — who wants to wake up next to the guy you spent all night crying on? — I use the entire walk to the bathroom feeling disappointed. My feet drag on the carpet.
The upstairs is quiet but there's a continuous banging of pans and loud muffled noises coming from downstairs while I brush my teeth with a finger and splash water on my face. I finish taking care of business, flush the toilet, and wash my hands, drying them by flapping them around in the air as I walk out of the bathroom since I couldn't
