Monday March 18, 2019
Paul doesn’t know when he started checking. He can’t answer Shauna when she asks. He sits quietly, top button of his green shirt buttoned, hands folded in his lap.
“I’m not mad,” Shauna mutters, which is a strange thing to say.
“Is it getting worse?” Paul keeps his eyes on his sneaker laces.
“I would say so…” Shauna takes her hair out of a ponytail. She needs a haircut.
“I guess it has,” Paul blinks ten times.
“I just wish you’d come to me before all of this,” Shauna gestures to the apartment door, closed and triple locked.