Your reprimands are alike to those I received as a child, made so that I reconsider my actions, reevaluate what I’ve done and why I did them. I used to retort, respond with another quicksilver reason for my actions with faults of yours I’d horde so jealously for moments like these. I don’t do that now. Silence is a much harsher mistress and it keeps me from saying the things I know will hurt you. I have to wonder what you’re thinking now, because I know my own thoughts are soft, like snow on firs or frost on glass. Cold.

You’re behind me now, languid between sheets waiting for me to return to bed so that we can apologize. I don’t want to, not yet. My work is my world now, the energy saver bulb burning yellow light onto my workspace. This is my obsession, my salvation.

Equations swim before my eyes, hoping to distract me from my worries and troubles. I understand them, find comfort in them. It’s like a drug, slow and creeping and I don’t want to save myself from drowning.