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This is where it goes

3 min read

·

Sep 12, 2026

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On gifts, protection, and leaving with something for myself.

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One afternoon
I was ninety-nine percent sure
a fly was following me.

It had been in the kitchen,
the bathroom,
beside my head
while I folded laundry.

I was cleaning
in such a foul mood
that I began spraying it
with all-purpose cleaner.

Not because I believed
this was an effective method.

Because I needed
one living thing
to understand
that I had reached my limit.

It disappeared
behind the toaster.

I stood there holding the bottle
like we had agreed
to take five.

On the counter
was an invitation
to a party
I was still pretending
I might attend.

I had been trying
to paint flowers
to bring as a gift.