Love Isn’t Rent
It came in a padded envelope with no note, because we are who we are, and I knew what it was through the paper.
Sunflower yellow.
Faded at the fifty-two-inch mark, where a woman’s thumb went for thirty years.
I put it in my kitchen drawer, which I understand is a strange thing to do, and I have been asked about it by exactly one person and I did not explain it well.
Here is why it’s in there.
June turned two in November.