Quietly

Indoor spaces feel small
I can change
Be in the right scale
I choose not to
The feeling of crouching in a doll-house is not an unpleasant one
Perhaps I am accustomed to a higher perspective

Pale light washes into the apartment
The man stands with droplets of water over his body
Leaning against the wall
Connected by elbow, the flat of the arm and the wrists
Head against hands, against the tiled wall
Behind him the woman stands
Arm resting on the counter
Hand around a glass of water
His eyes are closed
Hers neutrally open
Stillness
He breathes very slowly
— Are you here?
I turn my head slightly to the woman
She looks at me
I look at the man
– Yes.
Exhale
He turns, and when he does he turns away from me
Facing the bathroom, toilet, the hole
The woman
She opens her mouth
Nothing
He stands before her, naked
Inhale
Exhale
Without blinking
She lifts the glass of water
Extends her arm
The man’s eyes are slowly drawn to the glass
Then they seem to focus
Blink
— Does he see me?
She asks again
A low, calm voice
Tired
As tired as the man looks
He looks again at the glass
Reaches across and takes it
Stares at the glass
At the woman
Then drinks
Lowers the glass, one third remains
He looks down at the floor
At the bloodied clothes
At the toilet surrounded by darkening stains
The woman twists her body
Looks at the bathroom
— Um,
Very quietly
Then she walks towards the door
I move back out of her way
She stops outside the door and looks around the apartment
Moves again
Down the hall to a door
Opens
Into the room
I turn back to the man
Glass in hand
He drinks the last of the water
Sets the glass on the counter by the basin
From the apartment there are quiet sounds of drawers and doors, wardrobes opening
The rasp of sliding wood
Rollers
Clunk of sprung clips releasing and regaining their pegs
The man steps over the edge of the bath
Then bends at the knees and sits on the edge
He reaches up and rubs at his face
Skin squeaking across skin
Rakes his hands through his hair
Rubs at the back of his head, neck
Presses fingers to the cheekbone
The woman emerges
She carries several articles of clothing
A towel
Stops before the door and looks at me
A questioning look?
She opens her mouth again
Stares
Closes it
Turns and steps into the bathroom
Stops, back to me
The man turns to his side to look at her
I hear her exhale
He reaches towards her and takes the clothes and towel
She backs away to the door
Stops
The man stands
Sets the clothes on the counter
Dries himself very slowly
Begins to dress himself equally as slow without examining the clothes
She reaches for the door-frame
Then retracts her arm
Watching him dress
I watch her watch him

When he is dressed, he stands still
The woman remains at the door
He turns his head and looks again at the clothes on the floor
The blood
The toilet
— Leave it.
He turns to her
— I don’t live here.
He stares
– He doesn’t understand.
She turns around to me
– Living, residence, ownership.
Turns again to the man
— Indeed.
— You see me then?
— Yes.
– He doesn’t see many people.
Pause
— I don’t see any people.
Pause
Silence
He looks past her at me
— Is this what you are looking for?
Stare
– I don’t know.
— Then that would be ‘no’.
– Quite possibly.
The man raises his arms to his head
Not quite in my ears, but in my head, I feel a sensation of vapour, of dissolving
– I will go.
Move forward
The woman enters the bathroom and stands next to the man
I change my shape
Move past them to the hole in the wall
Grow again as I move towards the exterior
Without looking back I exit