Strangers in the apartment.

by Candis Jean

There is a fifty-something year old Hispanic woman wearing an orange apron, getting stoned at my kitchen table.
It’s three in the morning. She’s looking at me like I’m in the wrong apartment.
I am pretty sure I live here.
I’m not certain that she doesn’t.

Hello, home. You’re so strange sometimes.
Please bring back hot shirtless tattooed guy with the eye patch.
He was quiet and aesthetically pleasing.

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