Bad night.

She blinked, bleary, at the clock and rolled over, cold and alone, in last night’s jewelry. Her eyes were swollen, and she remembered staring through the mirror, tears rolling past contacts sitting on her cheeks.

She rolled out of bed, looking for pajamas, cold, bare legs goosepimpled in the midmorning interior. She didn’t know what she’d done last night, but hoped she never did it again.

The speakers chattered, and she pretended they were predicting his phone call, knowing they weren’t. He wouldn’t be awake for hours. She looked at the phone, wondered if she regretted last night’s voice mail.

A car alarm sounded outside, not hers. Her car was in South Austin, hopefully still, and she regretted telling him he’d have to pay for it if it got towed. Maybe that was where everything started. She couldn’t remember.

Edwige had been upset. Thump, thump, she’d gone, slapping powerful back feet hard against the floor of her cage. “I’m sorry, precious,” she’d told the bunny through her tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her neighbors were having sex above her, and she didn’t try to escape. She laid, pressed in bed, and cried for all the things she was afraid she didn’t have anymore.