People Scare Me

People scare me because I’m seeing more and more the uninhabited rooms within them. Or should I say the rooms that are rented out by something else. They keep telling me stuff will work out, suggesting jobs that make me want to put a gun under my chin, and saying that’s normal. Suicidal unhappiness in…

The Man in my Kitchen

There is a man in my kitchen. Or something like a man, or perhaps something like the shadow of a man. I can’t ever see him clearly, but he’s there, tucked neatly between the humming refrigerator and crumb-covered counter. He is always catching my eye; when I walk down the hallway, when I cross the…