Wednesday, December 07, 2005

a cold room upstairs

I'm sitting in a double bed in an empty-seeming room on the top-floor of the house my friend K. rents with two other people. She has the whole top floor, which is essentially a converted attic that runs the length of the house, with short sloping ceilings and a little bathroom on one side. She has made a bedroom of the half with the stairway -- she sleeps there on a futon mattress on the floor. She has offered me the other room, which actually has a door I can close and a bed of my own and two windows. When I "toured" it last night it was strewn with her clothes but tonight it is very tidy, and fresh vacuum tracks mark the carpet. It was sweet of her to clean for me when I know we're both as busy and stressed about exams. Nice to feel that someone has done something nice for me with no strings attached out of the kindness of her heart. Lately, when CB does anything for me it feels laden with attached strings. She wants to guarantee I'm staying and each moment is another opportunity to hold me; each interaction must be scrutinized for meaning, studied like tea-leaves, "Is she staying? Does she love me?" Too much pressure to perform.

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