And it is still raining.  The room is dark.  Last night, at the new house, we slept on the air mattress with the constant patter of drops and K's coughs.  It was cold.  Like the air mattress drooping to meet the floor, I missed the gas company and must wait till Monday to get the heat turned on.

At six am she woke me. "I can't stay here, let's go back."  I obliged, hauling upright fully dressed, pulling the coat around my shoulders.  We rustled the cat into her box and crept down the stairs to the glow of downtown.  Wet concrete squeals, cars and cars and who drives the 101 at this hour, I don't know.

Where she goes, I will follow.  What she asks, I will do. 

We drove back to Waco with the am oldies station hissing slow.  My love, I tucked her into bed with the mosquito netting and stuffed sheep, fell asleep beside her, my stuffed rat soft under my chin.