She liked having a tidied bedroom because it compensated for her untidied mind. When she came around from a night of violent passion and naked limbs, she woke him up and told him to leave.
She pressed her bruised thigh and sighed as he got up. She threw a bloodstained white shirt at his face.
She breathed slow and imagined a tidy room. It settled her. She took a shot. She began to pick up and put away and sweep and tie and throw out all of yesterday’s memories. He’d left and she was alone, in the midst of her thoughts.