The door is closed but unlocked when I arrive at the apartment.
That same mild de ja vu knocks politely on my memory.
Today seems familiar.
Caregivers?
I thought they would have been gone by now, but there’s no reply when I knock.
Kattar would never leave the house or go to sleep with his door unlocked.
A mild anxiety begins scratching at my chest with needle-thin talons -
What if he passed out - or was rehospitalized - first responders don’t lock doors do they? How could they? They wouldn’t search for keys…
But who would have found him?
Mrs. Moon has to be at her place setting up for the party -
I push the door open expecting to find nothing less than a white-faced ghost like the one I saw that night in the emergency room, with the blood on its face, and that sickening glow-
Instead, I see Kattar, standing - and that’s enough to leave me flabbergasted - make me wonder if I’m not dreaming again - but then I see how hard he’s leaning on the dining room table, the walker knocked over on its side like it fainted-
And he’s crying…face flushed up to the roots of his hair, now grown out at the roots, framing and clinging to his face like black damask as the choked breathless sobs wring themselves from his lungs - and thin rivers of glass, like hairline cracks, stream down his pointed nose and plummet onto the polished wood shining like a mirror - a mahogany ocean.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so fragile and beautiful, and for one fraction of a second, that powerful urge to kiss him tears me in half - and my heart in two-
-I should go over to him - and give in. I should stay right here-
He jumps when he sees me.
