The air is heavy as I step inside

The air is heavy as I step inside,

a fabric soaked through, clinging

like a promise once made.

Damp droplets pool

at my wrist, a testament to miles

untraveled, slipping past me,

while shirts pile up in corners,

each wrinkle a voice,

each odor a memory

of days postponed, the heat

tucking me in with unsaid things.