ashtray

How It All Started My body is a house I rent. I don't remember signing the lease. There are rooms I know by name and several more I have only heard about. Some have doors. Some have curtains. One has a staircase that wasn't there last winter. I live mostly in the hallway. It is the safest place. From there, I can hear everyone moving. Someone is playing music in the kitchen again. Someone is crying behind the bathroom door. Someone has locked themselves in the bedroom and refuses to answer when I knock. I don't ask them to leave anymore. I used to. I used to stand in the middle of the house and shout that it was mine. Nobody answered. Eventually, I learned that ownership is a strange thing. You can possess a house and still not know who has the keys. Sometimes I wake up and find things I don't remember buying. A cup in the sink. A drawing on the wall. A name written on the mirror. Once, there was a letter underneath my pillow. It said: You dont have to be afraid of us. I stared at it for a long time. Then I turned it over. On the back, in the same handwriting, someone had written: We are afraid of you too. -hexa🌟

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