further

she leaned into
the door and saw
that no one was
home, and so went
in. she fixed her
self a pot of tea,
made toast and
built a fire.
she sat in his
chair, held the
book that he was
reading. she picked
up his coat, held
it up to her face
and laid it back down
again. she went
to the window
where she could see
his hand prints
on the glass that
had etched her
name in the slow
wet dimples of
morning. she stood
there and looked up
the road, further
than she could
ever imagine
going with him
before, and in that
moment she decided
what she should do.