Maybe the cabinet had a soul. When I put the stool to lift the tea can from the upper floor, I could hear the sound of his laughter. It was the sound of footsteps that became louder at the end of the night. It made him more nervous. I could hear the sound of his teeth clenching. My husband always came home late at night, he was not bored to hear these words. I was clinging to his sleepy body and I was drowning in his sheets. I was squeezing my eyes together. He takes off my blue clothes and takes me to his slumber and he does not hear my voice, he does not hear anything, he was tired, I was going back to his whispers And I was left alone. The voices were rising and falling. The voices were beating my head and sometimes they were threatening. I felt like I was in that house, just like the kitchen utensils or the kitchen apron that hung and I walked with him on the wall in a dizzy clock, melting the kettle. I was pressing him, I was used to hearing his whispers, to the hot pyramid of his breaths that filled my ears, to the occasional reflection of the breeze that crawled on my touch, to the perfume of another human body on those four walls. Now I could see his shadow when he was passing by the window slowly, it was like a sudden fall of clothes from the balcony strap, it was so short and dumb I had to call him I had to call him I wanted him to see me I called him now I put him next to me Two-seater sofa I felt the weight of his head on my chest holding my breath and I shouted at him, my voice came back to me, I saw him and in the shadow I was touching the wall, I was attached to him, I was used to it, the only thing I did not believe was my husband, who said that you go to sleep most of the night, please be careful, the sound of the ceramics cracking has cut my safety.
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Date: February 16, 2019
