I could feel it but not quite give it a name
the words creating a distance like a strong arm held out against the air in the room between us
yet he was peaceful there in the kitchen chopping grating mixing
she talked neighbors hotels her town the sister in love gossip
kept coming into my head as I watched him gently going about the preparation of our meal
waking the next morning to lingering scents of carbonara and clean dishes
I knew what it was my gut rolling a bit but not from pasta my brow furrowed around the search for an answer
His quiet was a story to share one I wanted to turn to
She moved the air with words that needed scooping up and tossing in the bin come morning