she’s got a toothbrush
hanging out of her mouth,
toothpaste dripping down her
chin onto her stained
bathrobe, and she’s cooking.
I see she has water in the
electric kettle and am about
to ask her if there might be
some extra for my cup until
I see her dump some clumpy
brown powder into the pot
and disappear into the
communal bathrooms. I
watch her cereal get soggy,
when she re-emerges, smiles
and apologizes for being rude.
I watch her prepare her lunch,
carefully wrapping it in some
used cellophane, wash the
electric kettle and head upstairs.
Her cereal must have been too
soggy to eat; it was sitting on
the counter as I ate my breakfast
and watched her walk out the door.
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