He's in my house.

"Why is he here?"

He's down the hall.

"What did he do this time?"

He's asleep on his bed.

I feel like the cork on this bottle is about to explode. I'm hiding any and all emotion; I feel like an icy witch (maybe bitch, really). I don't really know what to think about that. I don't really know what to feel. I almost felt overwhelmed by emotion. I almost let myself cry; I nearly smiled. Instead, I hid it all away under the thick layer of skin and pretended it's all the same and no big deal. I'll not care for a while; he just might leave again. If I attach, I'll hurt. Instead, I'll pretend.

BUT HE'S HERE...and I don't know what to do.