the house used to dance along with us, the story it told:

• kitchen lights sparking to full of promise for the next new dish

• whispers and excited giggles flowing out of the bedroom

• a living room couch heavy with naps and cuddles

• clothing littering the laundry room dirty from adventures

but now the house lies dormant, no song to be heard, a robotic repeative dance in its place:

• wake up

• coffee

• work

• lunch

• home

• pay bills

• shower

• dinner

• repeat

i miss the hum of the house. i see you there. a roommate once more. stuck in this loop. somehow we have become lonely together, losing the dance along the way.