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Our House

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I don’t see you. You’ve never come. You promised me you loved me, but you left me here with no means of escape. I trusted you, and you looked me in the eyes and promised you loved me.

You did back in the old place, when we lived together. We’d sit on the ground and spend hours there, content to be in each other’s company. When you looked away, I’d gently kiss your cheek and you’d smile. Those were beautiful, simple days.

Then that woman started visiting, who you said was a friend. She looked at me and smiled in hidden repugnance, then scrunched her nose as if she was allergic to me. Whenever you were with her, you ignored me. You’d go somewhere, alone, with her, and leave me waiting for you.

Then I saw her with you more and more and everything changed. She ate our food. She slept in our bed. Did you forget about me, that you used to love me? Did you forget that I always loved you? Was she important enough to abandon me?
You couldn’t have, though: you’d still sit by me, on the floor. You’d still stroke my hair and call me Sweetie and pat my back. I could have survived on those moments, when the world disappeared and it was just you and me and she was gone. But you couldn’t.

I suppose that’s why you’ve left me here: you think someone else can give me that love that you can’t offer any more. But there is no love here, in this shadowy cage. There may have been love in your kiss you gave me after putting me in the car; there was love in your hand, which rested on her knee as you drove me here; there was love in the kiss she gave you as you both walked away. But there was none in that lie. You don’t love me anymore.

It is cold, dark, and lifeless, but truthfully, not as cold, dark, and lifeless as our house. Regardless, I am condemned here to a loveless existence, remembering you always, dreaded as the memory may be.
Now they’ve let me outside for my exercise. Every day, I watch the busy cars pass and none of them are you. I don’t see you, and I never will.

Wait—no, there you are! I can see the outline of your face whizzing past my eye, and you were looking right at me. I can sense your remorse, your helpless pity.
Just a moment later, they let me inside. The faces of the staff also appear guilty. It’s been too long, you’ve come too late.

A woman pets me as we both wait to meet my inevitable end. I remember her; she wore a white coat and would pet me as she gave me my medicine. She remembers me too. Our eyes lock, and hers fill with tears of glorious, belated love.





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