Through The Looking Glass

The blue striped shirt hangs, casually, as if someone might come back any minute and put it on

It looks like somebody lives here—

A strange thought to have when somebody does live here, and she's me, and I was the one who put it there—

Oak-steady husband and doting wife shedding clothes as casually as skin

Proof of our love swaying on the bannisters

You’re thinking of how pathetic you are, how shameful it is for a married woman to be desperate to switch places with a glitter-bodied girl who sells simulated sex for a living

I have these moments a lot

I am never fully present

I am a terminal voyeur

Director rather than actor

I call "Cut"

Curtain's closed

Tell her to exit stage left.