It’s the most pequilar thing walking into a house late at night.
But the strangeness occurs before you even step inside
You push your car door open normally, as there is no need to be quite in the company of crickets
And you shut it normally not in fear of disturbing coons
You can’t help but to slowly take a large gulp of midnight air, because out here is a much different world then inside.
Your first signs of tentativeness begin with the steps, you place your feet lightly, anticipating the creaks, and get off them as soon as you stepped on them.
You see that the porch light is on, a thoughtful gesture to you, a gesture which you have not returned by coming home at a time when it would not be needed.
You turn that doorknob ever so slowly and gently, and attempt to mask the sucking sound the door makes when your new life intersects your old one.
You block out your memories of today as you shut the door, carefully this time, as not to disturb those that love you.
You take off your shoes for barefoot simplicity
But whoops,
Your unintended, unnanouned, presence into the midnight lives of others is distrubted by your unawareness to a new flower arrangement placed by the hallway
Something you didn’t know was there, because you were not around to witness it’s rearagment
You pick this up quickly and quitly, and your homecoming goes along without further incident
You go to bed all by yourself
Because that’s what you wanted

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