not about you

she's crying.
so you ask her why.
this is a mistake.
this makes her
cry even harder.
tissue? you say,
grabbing
the emergency box
from the closet.
she shakes her
head no.
wiping her
eyes with the sleeve
of her sweater.
leave me alone,
she says,
sobbing
in her tearful voice.
did I do something,
you ask,
bending over
to touch her shoulder.
can we talk about
this. no. what do
you care anyway?
okay, okay. you
say, backing away.
I'm going out for
milk and bread,
which makes her yell
out, two per cent,
and pick up
some detergent,
but not the scented
kind, oh
and don't buy any
more cat food.
which makes her start
crying again.
okay, you say,
relieved this is
not about you,
but fluffy who has
escaped
once again.