The Caretaker
Today is the next day and it’s also the last. The pothos will wilt then wrinkle and crisp before Shannon can recall that it lives, unnoticed and reliant, in the corner of the dining room. Like her, it will decay in the absence of my daily duties to keep it nourished. I could take it with me, but the serpentine cracks smiling inside the walls of my apartment remind me that I have taken plenty from Shannon who has never noticed or, at least, never complained. Despite the perpetual urge to collect things ignored and forgotten, I've run out of room and won't return to Shannon's estate after today.