I step out into the cold of 2AM in the city. She’s asleep, probably dreaming of him while she sleeps off her ‘too much to drink’. I can’t stand to share a bed with her at the moment. I wonder if I’ll ever be able to without second guessing where her heart is, who she’s imagining with her.

I know this is a pointless outing. I don’t even know where I’m going. I hardly know the city. But there’s a spot I like to go to think, just up the street in the gazebo that sits in the neighborhood’s one round-about. With a shudder I pull my pea coat tight around me and let my feet plop down the front steps.

Hitting the sidewalk to turn left out of habit, the route to work, then spin back to the right towards the gazebo. A flicker of shadow, the hint of movement catches my eye. Someone is across the street, watching, waiting. I don’t have to wonder who it is. I don’t have to look up to see if the bedroom light has been turned on.

I just have to walk up the street to the little gazebo, to think and plan.