Rain outside and he hears her coughing in the bedroom. Deep, scraping hacks, some new voice with no need for words.
It says, I’m coming for you next. And so he sleeps on the sofa. One night, two nights, three nights. Meals eaten out. Clothes snatched away from the bedroom while she showers.
On the fourth night, he wakes to heat in his temples, ache in his bones. Clearing his throat, he finds the voice and it calls out to the other room.
